Wolves of the Angel: Honour Brothers
by Isador Akios
Summary: Kyr Lenikov and Darrier Firen have the strongest bond known to mankind, that of Honour Brothers. As Firen's world crumbles, the two Marines maintain their friendship and try to save as many Imperials as they can before their end comes. Book One.
1. Prologue

**Warhammer 40,000**

**Wolves of the Angel**

**Honour Brothers**

Prologue

A barely-felt breeze swept across the fields, brushing the grass with its gentle touch. The man smiled at the lover's caress, his eyes closed, hands on the earth in front of him. Waist high grass lightly tapped his body, swaying in the wind, glistening in the silver moonlight. Not a sound was made as the world slept peacefully for the first time in years.

The planet had been a war zone for the last century, plagued by Kaos warlords, Orks, and pirates. Imperial Command refused to reinforce or even defend the backwater, tactically useless world. The Planetary Defense Force was annihilated after the third month. Kerin Valdosk, the planetary governor, sent out a call for aid and recalled all deployed regiments. She got no response, and the deployed regiments were ordered by the Terra-based Tactical Guard Command to stay away. Abandoned by the rest of the Imperium, the world fell to the Kaos Gods. The followers of Khorne, the God of Blood and Slaughter, soon began to systematically enslave or exterminate all life on the planet. Armed resistance fighters were hunted down and fed to daemons for the enjoyment of the warlords. Governor Valdosk was captured and tortured to death in front of her family.

The resistance fighters managed to capture a communications relay and send an emergency distress call to Guard Command in the latter days of the one hundred second year of the occupation. Having been abandoned by the Imperium of Man before, the resistance leaders expected nothing. The fighters at the relay were rounded up and slaughtered by the Khornate cultists. A small resistance team was caught attempting to assassinate one of the warlords. The remaining few fighters retreated deeper underground, giving up what little hope they had left.

Two months later, four massive ships warped into the planet's orbit. Each carried a full company of the Imperium's mightiest soldiers. Utterly fearless and loyal only to the Emperor of Man, the genetically enhanced Space Marines of the Adeptus Astartes dedicate their lives to defending the citizens of the Imperium, and combating the xenos and forces of Kaos that besiege mankind. Marines put aside their fear, do not give in to despair or traitorous thoughts. They are friends of pain, brothers of death. All Marines die violently, it is just a matter of when.

Divided into Chapters of one thousand, and companies of one hundred, Space Marines are spread throughout the Imperium of Man, fighting the eternal, hopeless fight to defend Humanity. Despite their common purpose, few Astartes Chapters were friendly towards each other. Those that were however, shared the strongest bond ever known, stronger than any bond a normal man could ever dream of understanding. The Marines within those Chapters shared the bond of honour brothers, and would stop at nothing to protect the lives of their brothers.

The four ships were in the service of two different Adeptus Astartes Chapters, the Hunters and the Arctic Wolves. The day they arrived heralded a period of intense warfare all across the planet. The sky grew dark with orbital drop pods and Thunderhawk Gunships. Taken by surprise with devastating orbital bombardments and high-yield missile strikes, the Kaos forces could not mount an immediate defense. Within five hours, the Astartes had retaken the planetary capital.

A day later, an Imperial Inquisitor arrived in orbit with a full Imperial battle fleet in tow, having been requested by one of the Hunters captains. The liberation had officially begun.

The man clenched his fists as the memory enveloped him. He grimaced as phantom memories of pain moved through him, tracing his scars, settling in his shoulder where flesh met the cold metal of his arm. He stared at the replacement as the memories washed over him yet again.

Two weeks after the war began, the Imperials suffered their first major setback. The Korinthean 1st Imperial Guard Regiment never made their rendezvous with the Saliden 54th. The 54th went ahead with their mission regardless: to take back the only major manufactorum on the planet. At first, there was little or no resistance. As they pushed on however, they were ambushed by heretical Kaos Marines of the Black Legion. No one made it out of the city alive.

The Imperial Guard forward command post was attacked and destroyed. The Hunters Chapter Fourth Company was crippled, losing eighty-two Marines, their captain, and all their armor support. The Imperial advance slowed, grinding to a halt. In a Kaos counter-attack, over nine thousand Imperials lost their lives, as well as another sixty-eight Marines. The remainder of the Fourth Company, now only ten Astartes, was recalled by their Chapter Master so they could recover. The Hunters Seventh Company was surrounded on its way to rendezvous with the Arctic Wolves Third. By the time Brother-Captain Riktovi of the Third found the Hunters Seventh, fifty-two Marines had died.

Three months later, the fighting had finally died down. The Imperial Inquisitor, a woman named Patrova Vassilevski, destroyed three small cities with tactical missile strikes rather than lose soldiers to liberate them. The Kaos forces were pushed back to one last stronghold. One hundred and ninety-four Adeptus Astartes, leading twenty thousand Imperial Guard soldiers surrounded and laid siege to the city. Using tanks and heavy artillery, a hole was punched through the Kaos defense line. Within minutes, the city was ablaze with fires, filled with dead, and half-collapsed. It took thirty-four hours of continuous street-to-street, block by block fighting, but the final battle was won by the Imperials. Thirteen thousand soldiers were dead, along with another fifty-eight Astartes.

The Marine whispered a brief prayer in honour of his fallen brothers before finally standing. Gathering up his chainsword and bolter, he made his way to a waiting Rhino transport. He nodded a greeting to his battle-brothers as he climbed aboard and sat on the bench. Bowing his head, he began to pray, pleading with the Emperor to show him the way forward, to lend him strength to resist the siren call of the Kaos Gods. His fellow Marines let him be, well used to their sergeant's sadness after a hard-fought war. The debarkation ramp clanged shut, and the Rhino began the long drive back to the rest of the company. The sigil of the Arctic Wolves Third glinted in the moonlight.


	2. Chapter 1

'_The fallen will be forever remembered as_

_the Emperor's finest.'_

Chapter One

Brother-Sergeant Lenikov sat alone, gazing at the endless fields of grass. He knew he'd likely never see them again. Hailing from a world locked in an eternal winter of ice and endless snow, the sight of a simple prairie was beautiful to him. He glanced at his vambrace, gazing at the newly carved symbol. It was small, but it held a meaning to him he would never truly understand. A wolf engulfed in flames. He knew a matching symbol was carved into the vambrace of a sergeant in the Hunters Seventh Company. He turned as he heard footsteps.

'Sergeant Lenikov?' A scribe holding a small slate walked up to him, looking up at him. 'Inquisitor Vassilevski would like to see you. She's waiting at the command post.'

Nodding, Lenikov brushed past him. Walking through the camp, he could smell the blood and death pervading the air. Wounded men screamed from the medicae buildings. The smell of burned flesh wafted over him as he passed where the dead were cremated. Marines from both Chapters nodded a greeting to him as he passed. Stopping at his squad's Rhino, he poked his head inside.

'Vin, I need you,' He inclined his head to the rest and stepped back outside. Following him was a young Marine named Vin Rustyik.

'Yes sergeant?' He nodded to a passing Hunter and returned his full attention to Lenikov. 'What's the problem?'

'No, there's no problem. I need you to accompany me to the Inquisitor,' he shook his head. 'We have been summoned. Follow me, and keep sharp. Inquisitors coat their words in lies.'

The young Marine nodded, his one service stud glinting in the morning sun. With Rustyik in tow, Lenikov jogged the rest of the way to the command post. The guards bowed to the Marines, opening the doors and waving them inside. A scribe stood and approached them. 'May I help you?'

Lenikov nodded. 'We're looking for Inquisitor Vassilevski.'

The scribe glanced at Rustyik. 'I had heard only one of you were coming.'

The sergeant grinned. 'He's here at my request. Is that a problem?'

'No, not at all. Through that hall, third door on the left.'

Lenikov nodded and left the scribe standing alone in the entrance hall. Rustyik glanced behind him. 'Sergeant, am I not supposed to be here?'

'You're in my squad. Wherever I'm allowed to go, you are too,' he turned to his fellow Marine and tapped his shoulder guard. 'Remember, don't trust her. She'd shoot you in an instant, no matter how nice she seems. Now, let's not keep the good Inquisitor waiting.' He rapped the door twice before entering the room. 'Inquisitor Vassilevski, you sent for me?'

Sitting behind a small, wooden desk, she did not glance up from a paper she was reading. 'Sit down sergeant. I don't remember asking you to bring a friend. Not that it matters. I need you to tell me of the last three hours of your fight in the manufactorum.'

Lenikov opted to remain standing. 'Inquisitor, forgive me, but why? It was a horror I prefer not to repeat, even in words.'

'I understand, really I do. However, I would not ask were it not necessary. I need to record the fighting for the Ordo Hereticus to look into at a later date. We need to find out why we failed to aid these people of the Imperium when they needed it.'

'What does it matter? We helped them now. The war is over, and my captain needs to be fighting the Imperium's wars elsewhere, not here reliving the hells of wars past.'

'I feel there may be corruption somewhere in the higher reaches of Imperial Guard Command. Why else would they let this Jewel of the Empire fall into Chaos hands?'

'Because they do not care for individual soldiers' lives. They do not feel the pain a soldier feels when their planet or family is enslaved or destroyed. They care nothing for the costs of the Imperium. Rustyik, wait for me outside.'

The younger Marine nodded and left the room. Turning to face the Inquisitor, Lenikov leaned forward. 'Inquisitor Vassilevski-'

She smiled. 'Patrova, please.'

Lenikov paused. 'Inquisitor Vassilevski. I understand that as an inquisitor you have near unlimited power. However, after this is over, we will both leave, and I will never see you again. I want you to understand that I don't trust you or your kind. You do not command the Astartes, Inquisitor.'

Vassilevski nodded. 'I understand, sergeant. Now please, we're short on time.'

'Where do you want me to start?'

'According to your captain, your squad was deployed to the workers habitats.' Lenikov nodded. Vassilevski folded her hands and placed them in her lap. 'Then why don't you start there?'

'Yes Inquisitor. As you said, we were deployed to the workers habitats, leading two squads of Guardsmen. At first, Kaos resistance was lighter than expected. We encountered three or four groups of crazed cultists, easily dispatched. We moved down the central roadway, cleansing each building of Kaos taint. After about another half hour, we were ambushed…' He paused as the memory began to relive itself.

'Rustyik get down!' Lenikov shouted, straining to be heard over the sudden roar of bolter and lasfire. 'Ventrek, get the wounded into that building! Move!'

Five Guardsmen lay on the ground, bleeding from a dozen fatal or near fatal wounds. Another four were in pieces further down the road. The senior sergeant lay against a wall, dazed, blood dripping from a long gash on his head. Lenikov looked up as he heard the shriek of jump packs. Arcing over the nearest habitat, a group of Kaos Marines landed in the middle of the street opening fire with bolt pistols. Rustyik was spun around as a bolt clipped his shoulder guard. Brother Rokovski's head exploded as he took a round to the face.

Brother Vonik Loranev charged out of cover, slashing at the heretics with a chainsword in each hand. Rustyik knelt low to the ground and opened fire with his bolter rifle. The mass-reactive shells exploded in a traitor Marine's chest, blowing a fist sized hole through it. The Guard sergeant rose and screamed a prayer to the Emperor, running forward, power sword raised. Without looking at him, a heretic casually blew him away. The body crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from its chest. Gore covered the road, body parts thrown aside. A surviving Guardsman fired a rocket at one of the heretics, blowing the Kaos filth apart in a shower of blood. Screaming, she reloaded and fired again. The rocket streaked over a traitor's head, impacting on the building behind him.

Lenikov crouched over another wounded Imperial, doing his best to stem the flow of blood. 'Don't die on me trooper. Ventrek, get on the vox and call for support!' Hearing the whine of moving blades, he ducked. A chainsword swung over him, the moving teeth of the blade skittering off the wall and showering him with sparks. Turning, he punched the heretic with all his might. Face smashed, the traitor Marine fell to the ground, dropping the chainsword. Drowning in his own blood, the heretic began to claw at the sergeant. Snarling, Lenikov shot it in the face. Crouching over the wounded soldier once more, he ripped part of the trooper's uniform, tying a tourniquet above the stump of his arm.

Hearing the whine of an incoming Thunderhawk Gunship, he glanced about him. Brother Ventrek was on the ground bleeding from a hole in his chest, but was still shooting. Brother Loranev stood atop a pile of heretic carcasses, a whirlwind of deadly chain blades. Rustyik was firing from a window, the remaining Guardsmen sheltered behind him. Brother Pavlov stood in the center of the road, his heavy bolter spewing bolt rounds at the Kaos. Rokovski and the others were dead. The Thunderhawk banked sharply, coming in low and fast. Opening fire with its lascannons and heavy bolters, it cut a swathe through the enemy.

A rocket screamed from the Kaos lines, throwing the Thunderhawk against a building, where the gunship exploded. The habitats around it were leveled and fire raged across the street.

'Sergeant? That's all I need. Thank you.'

Blinking, Lenikov nodded. 'It was as if they knew where we were supposed to be, what we were calling for. Can they hack our vox network?'

'That question would perhaps be better directed to your tech-Marine. I'm sorry for making you relive that, sergeant. Now, perhaps, you understand a little better.'

Sergeant Lenikov grimaced. 'Somewhat. I take my leave, Inquisitor.'

Patrova nodded. 'Thank you sergeant. I'm sorry for your losses.' Lenikov nodded and made to leave, pausing as the Inquisitor called after him one last time. 'Sergeant? That trooper you were protecting, did he survive?'

Lenikov hesitated. 'No.'

Outside the room Brother Rustyik took one look at his sergeant and stayed silent. He could see the pain written on Lenikov's face. He followed the sergeant outside and back to their Rhino. Lenikov pulled up short as he saw a Marine not of the Arctic Wolves waiting for him. Wearing sand-colored power armour, the Hunter gazed at him, before smiling broadly.

'Kyr Lenikov. I'm glad to have finally found you.' Stepping forward, the two Marines clasped hands, the matching symbols of their brotherhood glinting in the light.

'Brother Firen. I had been wondering where you'd got to.' Lenikov turned to Brother Rustyik. 'Thank you for accompanying me.' Walking with Brother-Sergeant Darrier Firen, he motioned at the camp around him. 'I've always hated this part of a war the most. When it's over, and you have time to take a breath. By then all you are breathing is smoke, all you hear are the screams of the wounded and dying. You start to remember, have time to think.'

Sergeant Firen nodded. 'Aye, but it gets better. These people are saved. Dead and wounded soldiers are the costs of war. We did what we could. They will recover, in time. Now, on to more pressing matters. Our captains have been talking.'

Lenikov raised an eyebrow. 'Oh? What about?'

Grinning, Firen said, 'Your squad is coming with us. Now you get to see a true beauty.'

'That ball of sand you call a home? Didn't you say the air was toxic?'

Firen laughed. 'Yes, it's rough around the edges, but truly beautiful if you look closely enough. Did you not hear me? You're coming too.'

Lenikov nodded. 'It'll be good to be around the Hunters a while longer. When are we leaving?'

'Three standard hours.'

'Understood. I need to prepare my squad. Is anyone else from the Arctic Wolves coming?'

'Yes,' Firen responded. 'Just an apothecary. Meet me at landing pad five-two-zero.'

'Understood. Now get going,' Lenikov ordered. Turning back to his squad, he saw them standing by the entrance ramp, weapons holstered. An apothecary stood with them. Brother Rustyik stepped forward.

'When are we leaving again?' He grinned. 'I didn't quite hear that part. And I want to see that, what did you call it? "That ball of sand they call a home."'

'You will soon. Grab your gear, head over to the landing pad. I'll meet with you there.' Lenikov turned and left, walking through a series of alleys and dirt-covered roads before standing in front of the largest building in the camp. Stepping through the massive double-doors, he looked around him. The building was dark, lit only by candles scattered throughout the room. Pews lined the center aisle, facing a statue carved from white stone. The Emperor of Mankind gazed at his servant coldly, penetrating Lenikov's very soul. The Marine knelt before the statue, silently praying.

Footsteps echoed as another man approached, his face hidden behind the skull death-mask every chaplain wore. Using his Crozius Arcanum - the weapon and staff of office of a chaplain - as a crutch, the old Marine stood beside Lenikov. Bowing his head to the Emperor, the chaplain rested his hand on Lenikov's shoulder. 'What troubles you, my friend?'

Lenikov remained kneeling. 'My squad and I leave the Chapter. I had hoped to ask you something.' He continued to gaze at the Emperor's magnificence. 'Father, why do I kill my brothers? How were they corrupted?'

'I am afraid I cannot tell you, my friend. That has been lost to history. However, these are no longer your brothers. They have renounced their oath to the God-Emperor, and now seek to destroy that which we have sworn to defend. They serve the gods of Kaos, fight alongside daemons,' Chaplain Varodsk paused, gathering his thoughts. 'Brother Lenikov, why do you ask?'

'They are as you say. But they are also still Marines. Still my brothers. Please, who do I trust if I cannot trust my own brothers?'

'If you must trust someone, trust in your Emperor. Even more, trust in yourself. You know the difference between right and wrong, and the Emperor will guide you. He will protect you, and when it is time, will call you to His side before the final days are upon us. Have faith, my friend. For faith is our shield against the Kaos Gods. Our faith guards us from cowardice. The Emperor protects.'

Lenikov nodded. 'The Emperor protects.' He remained kneeling, long after the echoes of Chaplain Varodsk's boots faded away. Silently offering a final prayer to the Emperor, Kyr Lenikov rose. Bowing before the statue, he left the chapel, making the sign of the Aquila as he passed the archway. Running to the landing pad, he pulled aside a tech-Marine.

'Brother Zukev, I will be with the Hunters Chapter on Preaore for a time. While I am gone I need you to look into ways our vox can be broken into. Research it as best you can. Once you have done so, send me a message detailing which Legions have that capacity.'

'Yes Sergeant Lenikov.'

Lenikov stepped up onto the platform and joined his squad. 'Alright, load up. Time to go.' He clasped wrists with his honour brother and turned, gazing one last time at the planet he had known for the last five months. He saw the tents of the guardsmen lining the plains. He saw the corpse fires burning, the spiraling smoke and the ash drifting on the wind. Silently begging the planet's inhabitants' forgiveness for the horrors visited upon them, Brother-Sergeant Kyr Lenikov entered the Hunters Thunderhawk. Brother Rustyik said something to him, but it went unheard as the whine of the charging engines drowned out all noise. A moment later, the Thunderhawk had lifted from the planet's surface. Following others of its kind, the gunship flew through the atmosphere, docking with a strike cruiser of the Hunters Seventh. One hour later, the ship entered the warp, beginning the perilous journey through the domain of daemons and the Kaos Gods, so that they may one day return home.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_'You're being deployed to a worker's habitat to the east…'_

Lenikov grimaced, clutching a metal stanchion. _'Rustyik get down!' _He knelt in front of the Emperor's statue, alone in the chapel. _Rokovski screamed. Arkidevi lay dead. _The sergeant clutched his head, praying for release. _'Don't die on me now trooper…' The life blood of a young man pooled around his knees. A woman lay screaming beside him, her legs bent at unnatural angles, her arm missing. _Lenikov screwed his eyes shut, trying to stop the images. His hands covered his ears, attempting to block out the sounds. The stench of death and burning flesh filled his nostrils, suffocating him. _Corpses thrown onto a pile of dead. Burning wreckage covered the roads. The ash of burned dead fell like snow._ He crawled toward the statue, begging the fallen to forgive him. Tears flowed down his face. _A planet bathed in fire stretched before him. Cities were vaporized by missile strikes. Dead Marines lay about him, covered in blood._ Lenikov screamed. His pain echoed off the walls, smashing into him, deafening him. _A Marine of Kaos stood, blood pouring from a wound in his neck. The traitor held out a hand, eyes beseeching him for help. His breath came in rasping gulps, a low moan escaping his bloody lips: 'Brother… Help me…'_

A hand grabbed his shoulder. 'Brother Lenikov, focus. It is not real. You are in the Emperor's sight, realize it. See His light, pull yourself from the darkness.'

_Blood covered the grass, flooding it. Destroyed Rhinos were scattered across the blood-drenched plains. Burning ships spiraled to the ground._

'Brother Lenikov, you are safe. Come back to the light. The Emperor keeps you in His sight. What you see is not real. You are an Astartes of the Emperor. See His light, come back from the darkness.'

Lenikov shuddered, the remnants of the memories leaving him cold and empty. A pained gasp escaped him. The Marine beside him pulled him from the floor, gently but firmly sitting the sergeant on a bench. The Marine, a chaplain of the Hunters, put aside his skull death-mask, crouching in front of Lenikov so their eyes were level. 'Are you okay Sergeant Lenikov? Rest easy, for you are safe in the Emperor's grasp. Do not lose sight of Him.'

Lenikov nodded slowly, his breath coming in small gasps. 'Thank you, father. What happened to me?' He placed his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing.

'You were remembering, I believe. Likely what you saw on Arein returned. It will pass in time, if you allow it to. The  
Emperor has taken those who died to His side. Their souls are well cared for. You need not continue to worry for them.' The chaplain placed his hands on Lenikov's shoulders. 'Have faith, sergeant.'

Lenikov nodded. 'Thank you father.' He paused as he noticed the silence, the stillness of the ship. 'The engines have stopped. Have we arrived?'

The Hunters chaplain smiled. 'Yes brother. We are in orbit over Preaore, my home, and the home of every Marine on board, with the exception of you and your squad. I will accompany you to the capital, along with Sergeant Firen. A Thunderhawk is waiting for us. Follow me.'

Lenikov stood, his breathing finally returned to normal levels. Following the old priest, he walked slowly, running his hand along the wall for support. Stepping aside to allow a group of Assault Marines carrying jump packs passage, he glanced at the chaplain. The man bore five gold service studs, embedded in the Marine's forehead above his right eye. Each signified one hundred years of service to the Emperor and the Marine's Chapter. Smiling, the old priest acknowledged Lenikov's gaze, and motioned that they continue.

Walking through armoured bulkheads and blast doors, he entered the primary deployment bay of the strike cruiser. He followed the chaplain to a waiting Thunderhawk gunship and stepped aboard. Nodding to his squad, Lenikov embraced his honour brother. He slid his weapons into the locker above him and sat, sealing the harness and preparing for takeoff. With a low hiss the ramp closed, sealing them in darkness until small red lights lit the passenger compartment. The engines roared, and with the slightest of jolts, the Thunderhawk was through the integrity fields and in the cold grip of space. Lenikov closed his eyes and leaned back, attempting to ease the slight pain left over from the memories.

A moment later, the gunship was cruising above an endless desert. Its pilot called to the Marines to make sure their armour was sealed against the environment, and lowered the ramp, giving the Arctic Wolves their first view of the planet. The red sun glared blindingly off the sand, sending coils of steam rolling off the Marines' armour. The toxicity meter on the inside of their helmets moved into the extreme red, indicating a toxin deadly even to a Marine's enhanced physiology, if they were exposed long enough. Brother Firen rose and stood beside Lenikov. He placed his hand against the hull to steady himself as the Thunderhawk bounced slightly.

'This, Kyr Lenikov, is Preaore. An endless sea of sand, air so toxic even one of us would die if we stayed exposed for more than one hour. Two suns, one red, one gold, granting us eternal daylight,' Firen grinned. 'Below the sands of our planet lie our most precious jewels. Caverns dug by our greatest artificers, each holding a city of our people. They are connected by great highways, both for military and civilian use. Reservoirs of water lay hidden, spread throughout the underground world, supplying our fields and people with clean drinking water. We came to this planet almost seven thousand years ago. We have protected it, helped it to flourish. Another gem quite like this in the Imperium, you would be hard pressed to find.' The sergeant smiled faintly at the majesty he saw in his home. Even Lenikov had to admit the world sounded beautiful, if rough around the edges as Firen himself had said.

The chaplain spoke up. 'You will be the honored guests of the Hunters Chapter. If you wish, I will give you a tour of the capital,' he looked out at the desert speeding by below them. 'Or of the surface, if that is what you prefer. And our apothecarion would like to introduce your own apothecary to some anti-toxins they guarantee he has never seen.' The Arctic Wolves apothecary inclined his head in acknowledgement.

The pilot called to the Marines, 'Better sit down Brothers, we are landing soon.' Leaving the ramp down so the Wolves could see, he pulled into a small patrol pattern over a series of unimportant mounds of sand. With a shudder, sand began to cascade down the side of one of the dunes. A groan echoed over the desert, as ancient mechanisms put themselves to work. The dune split in two and moved apart, sand falling into the entrance to Preaore's underground world. Slowly allowing it to fall into the airlock, the pilot maneuvered his Thunderhawk with the utmost care, keeping away from the rock and metal walls. The outer blast shield groaned slowly shut, reforming the dune above it. With a hiss, the polluted air of the surface was sucked out and replaced with the clean recycled air from below. The lower airlock door slowly slid open, giving the Wolves their first look at Preaore's capital.

Small buildings stretched for miles, filling the floor and partially climbing the walls of an endless cavern. Cliffs and pathways were cut into the cave walls, allowing passage for vehicles and pedestrians to the upper reaches of the city. Parks dotted the cityscape, trees lined every road. A small river wound through the city, lazily flowing into a grate on one side of the cave. Another set of blast doors stood open on the cavern walls, the beginning of the highways connecting the different cities. Massive lamps lit the cave from above, simulating day and night. Strange birds flew through the air, welcoming the Hunters back to their world. Firen smiled.

'Welcome, friends, to Felran, the capital city of our home.' The gunship lightly touched down in the center of the city, and the silence was deafening when the engines were shut down. Slowly, the chaplain and Sergeant Firen stepped onto the plascrete. Each knelt and touched two of their fingers to the Hunters insignia carved into their helmets, then to the landing pad, whispering a prayer of thanks to the Emperor for allowing them to return home safe and in one piece. The chaplain took up his Crozius Arcanum and disappeared into the city. Brother Firen repeated his prayer and stood, a single tear running down his face. Turning to the Arctic Wolves, he smiled.

'Two hundred years it's been since I last laid eyes on my home. I did not expect to return alive, but the Emperor has seen fit to bless me. Welcome again to Felran. If it is permissible, you will stay with me and my squad. We are quartered nearby, by the capital building.' With the Wolves in tow, he moved into the city, introducing them to certain sights as they passed. Men and women moved aside to allow the Marines easier passage, bowing their heads to the Emperor's Angels. Walking along the riverside, the Wolves removed their helmets to feel the artificial breeze. Lenikov rubbed his hand over his shaved head.

The group stopped at a building decorated with torn and, in some cases burned, war banners. The crystal doors bore a small silver representation of the Imperial Eagle. The Marines entered the barrack, glancing about them and enjoying the cold air gusting from various vents set into the walls. Marines both in and out of armour moved amongst them. Nodding in respect to the fellow Hunter, and giving cursory glances to the newcomers, they moved to hone their skills in training or visit the nearby chapel. Another Marine opened a door and stepped into the main room of the building, stopping to look at the Arctic Wolves.

The man was wearing midnight black power armour, the dark green sigil of the Archangels glinting slightly in the light. Stepping forward, the Archangel exuded an air of strength and power that could not be argued with. The blood red eyes of the helmet glared at them, artificial and unblinking. The Marine's voice was hard and strong, a voice more suited to shouting orders to soldiers in the middle of a war than to talking quietly amongst friends. 'Welcome to the home of the Hunters. I am Sergeant Ekthalon, honour brother to Captain Vanna of the Hunters Ninth Company. I am a visitor here as well.' Ekthalon reached up to remove his helmet. His face was heavily scarred, his eyes friendly in an otherwise cold and unyielding face. He smiled. 'I recognize your armour. You are the Arctic Wolves, yes?'

Lenikov nodded. 'Aye. I am Sergeant Kyr Lenikov, and this is my squad. We are here at the request of Sergeant Darrier Firen.' He indicated the Hunter, who clasped hands with Ekthalon.

The Archangel inclined his head in respect. 'Welcome, friends of the Chapter. I am glad to see we have a common friend in the Hunters.' With that, he left, his absence making the room seem emptier somehow. Firen glanced around.

'They have been here for a while now. I don't know exactly what, but I always feel as if he's hiding something from me.'

'I got that feeling too,' said Lenikov. The Marines were shown to their beds, hard slabs of smooth rock, covered in sheets. The Hunters still in the room greeted Lenikov and his squad enthusiastically, introducing themselves as the command squad for the Seventh Company. Easing into a friendliness rarely seen between Marines of different Chapters, the men discussed things from old battlefields to the heritage of their separate Chapters.

Lenikov suddenly found himself on the spot as another Marine asked the name of their Primarch and ancient lineage. He smiled faintly, remembering what he had been taught. 'We are the sons of the Angel, Sanguinius. We are of the twenty-fifth founding. As for our lineage, the people of our worlds hail from the ancient Rusya Faction. I believe the nation was once called Soviyet Rusya, after some long dead god or daemon. That is irrelevant though. Settlers first came to Angura over seven thousand years ago, and found it as an endless sea of ice. It only had five small islands, and those were covered in snow. It still remains as a barren ice-covered land, but it is live-able. I believe you would find it refreshing, after the heat of the desert above.' He was about to continue when the Hunters chaplain returned.

'Brothers of the Arctic Wolves, let us walk the surface.' The chaplain smiled. 'Let us tempt fate and defy death.'

Light speared into the tunnel, blinding in its intensity. The Marines stepped from the exit shaft and into the open desert. Their armour began to smoke from the intense heat of the two suns, before the systems compensated. The pure white and deep blue of the Arctic Wolves' power armour stood out against the sand, whereas the armour of the two Hunters accompanying them was near perfect camouflage. The chaplain and Brother Firen paused, slowly taking off their helmets and revealing themselves to the toxic air. They each took one breath before replacing their helms. Lenikov stared.

'It is a tradition,' said Firen, in response to the hesitating Arctic Wolves. 'We are of the planet, and therefore deserve to breathe its natural, untreated air. Each time we step onto the surface, we take one breath, a breath that would instantly kill a normal human. The air would shred their lungs, then burn their inner organs.'

The chaplain motioned at the expanse of desert. 'Come, let us walk.'

The Arctic Wolves were shown canyons of immense depth, ancient fortress ruins, and fossilized remains of trees, and animals. They were told of the Hunter's history, learned about their ongoing fight with the Word Bearers Legion. They were shown the one place the planet was not sand. A small crystal dome, hidden amongst the mountains and cliffs of the southern pole. It reflected the enormous heat of the two suns, keeping the area inside cool. The air was filtered as it worked its way through a dozen different vents. The Marines walked through three blast doors and two airlocks to get inside. Five Terminator Marines in full armour stood guard.

A small oasis, beautiful in its simplicity, resided within. Birds sang, and a thin fog filled the dome. Waist-high grass brushed against the Marines' armour. A pool of the clearest water Lenikov had ever seen lay at the center of the oasis. Fish of every color swam the length of the pool enthusiastically, in groups or alone. The chaplain knelt, taking off his gauntlet and running his hand through the water.

'This is the most important secret we of the Hunters guard. The only true oasis anywhere on the surface of the planet.' He glanced at the visitors to his world. 'You have been done a great honour by Sergeant Firen, for his was the word that allowed you to come here. This place is second only to our gene-seed in its importance to us. Realize this, and be thankful for the friend you have found in him.'

When they returned to the city, the lamps above were shuttered, the people resting in an artificial night. Lenikov and his squad mates moved to their assigned quarters and stowed their weapons for the night. The sergeant put his armour on the cot, and left the barracks, wearing a simple midnight blue robe. Walking softly, he made his way to the chapel he'd seen on the way in. Sliding through the archway, he entered the darkened hall. Slowly, Lenikov made his way toward the altar. Kneeling in front of the statue of the Emperor, he began to pray.

Looking into the Emperor's face, he once again asked for the strength to hold true to his devotion. The statue's gaze pierced through him, staring into his soul. The cold face of the Emperor seemed to grow kind, despite being set in stone. He turned his face to the floor, feeling unworthy of setting his eyes upon the God-Emperor. The Marine thought about his service to the Imperium. Remembered the long years of war, the friends lost. He'd lived for three hundred years, dedicating every second to his Emperor. Lenikov nodded, accepting that while the losses were great, they were necessary. Such was the cost of defending an empire.

He said a final prayer, and left the chapel, returning to the cot assigned to him. The sergeant slept peacefully, the faces that usually haunted him absent.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_ TECH-MARINE IOS ZUKEV TO BROTHER-SERGEANT KYR LENIKOV REGARDING THE VOX NETWORK. MESSAGE BEGINS: Sergeant Lenikov, I have finished my research, and as asked, am reporting my findings to you. To the best of my abilities, I could not hack into the vox network. I used the technologies the Legions are known to have, as well as our own. I was repeatedly unable to hijack, or listen in to any command frequencies, although one of our sub-channels was broken. That problem is now being looked into. Therefore, to my knowledge, no Traitor Legion has the capacity to break into our main vox channels. I have done what you asked, now please, why was it necessary? MESSAGE ENDS._

Lenikov reread the note, slowly, to ensure he did not miss anything. He nodded, understanding that if he was right, that the Kaos knew the deployments of the Imperials on Arein, then they had to have been informed. During the last months of the war, all commands had been given through the Astartes frequencies. If no Legion could hack them, then someone was feeding them information. The sergeant shook his head. _But why? Don't they realize they could undo the Imperium?_ He snarled as the full scope of what he'd just thought hit him. Everything he'd worked for, three hundred years of pain and suffering, added to the lives of every Marine and un-enhanced guardsman, shattered because of one traitor. He would not let it happen. Handing the paper to the rest of his squad mates, he allowed each of them to read it before burning it.

'Brothers, based on the last stages of the war on Arein, the ambushes and counter-attacks, I believe the Kaos knew of some, if not all, of our deployment orders. Does anyone here disagree?' No one spoke. 'Good. If that is the case, then that message there tells us we were betrayed. The traitor likely believes he has gotten away with this, but we are to prove him wrong. Suggestions?

Brother Ventrek spoke up. 'Could it have been the inquisitor, sergeant? Emperor knows they have been corrupted before, having experienced too much at the hands of Kaos.'

'No, she is too young to have experienced enough for that. She is also trying to find the traitor we speak of. Good, but wrong. Anyone else?'

After a pause, Brother Rustyik spoke. 'Sergeant, it has to be a guardsman. And considering that the entirety of the Korinthean 1st, and Saliden 54th Regiments were destroyed, including their commanders, that leaves the Preaorean 9th. Could the traitor really have been one of them?'

Lenikov nodded. 'I like your thinking brother, for I have thought the same. However, we cannot put aside the possibility that one of the other generals or colonels was the heretic. The forces of Kaos are random and impossible to understand. The traitor could have been, in turn, betrayed. I am looking for one more suggestion.' No one spoke, seemingly out of ideas. Lenikov winced, realizing he was the only one with these particular thoughts. 'We cannot discount the possibility that it is a Marine, who did this. One of us, or the Hunters. The Archangels could be involved, but I do not believe so. Their friendship with our Chapter, and the brotherhood between the sergeant and Hunters captain, are too strong. They would not have betrayed us.'

Pavlov shook his head. 'Sergeant, no Marine would have betrayed us. It is impossible.'

'Is it? Ten thousand years ago, nine legions, _nine_, turned their backs on the Emperor. _Nine hundred thousand Marines._ It has happened before, it can happen again. It _will_ happen again. Is that not why we were separated into Chapters? Why we are only one thousand strong, rather than our former glory as a legion?' Lenikov paused, wishing what he was saying had not happened. 'The Warmaster Horus, the Emperor's most beloved son, turned his back on the Imperium. It is possible, make no doubt about that. I need you to each find a captain of the Preaorean regiment, and question them, as the inquisitor did with us. In the mean time, I will attempt to contact her. Dismissed.'

The Arctic Wolves bowed their heads, saying a brief prayer to the Emperor and Sanguinius, before leaving their sergeant alone in the room. Lenikov stared at the small pile of ash, unable to hide his shame at the thoughts passing through his head. He could scarcely believe he really thought a Marine would renounce his oath of loyalty to the Immortal God-Emperor of Mankind. Silently, he begged the Emperor's forgiveness for doubting His servants. He looked up as someone entered the room. The Archangel sergeant, Ekthalon, moved past him.

'I see the pain in your eyes, Sergeant Lenikov. You begin to suspect what I already know, do you not?' The scarred Marine took off his helmet, sitting on a cot. 'You believe you have been betrayed, yet you think it cannot be a Marine who is the traitor. I see it in your eyes. You want to remain open to all possibilities, yet it is hard for you to accuse a brother.'

'I have slain my brothers, those too corrupted to realize the bond between us.'

Ekthalon shook his head. 'No, Brother Lenikov, you have slain the servants of Kaos. They renounced their brotherhood millennia ago. Any shared brotherhood is lost. The fact that you feel otherwise, shows you have a truly loyal soul. You are loyal to the Emperor, your Chapter, and the Imperium. But you are also loyal to lost brothers.' The sergeant's friendly eyes scanned Lenikov, trying to see past his resistance. 'We Archangels know much, but as always, there are things we do not know. I know you were indeed betrayed on Arein, but I do not know when, or by whom.'

Lenikov nodded sadly. 'But how? Why? They would undo all we have worked to protect. Do they not realize that? They are condemning humanity to a death worse than anything we mortals can imagine…'

'I know. I am not a chaplain, but know this: The Emperor does what is necessary. He will guide us, and using His strength, we will find this heretic, and reveal him to the God-Emperor's wrath. There is an Imperial Inquisitor en route as we speak. She comes under the cover of darkness, well hidden. The traitor will not see her coming.'

'Who is she?'

Ekthalon smiled. 'You have met her before, sergeant. Inquisitor Patrova Vassilevski. It was she who brought this matter to my attention before you arrived. She too, believes that the traitor is either a Hunter or Preaorean. Therefore, she wants someone with no remaining connections to either.'

Lenikov turned to the Archangel. 'No connections? What about Captain Vanna?'

Sergeant Ekthalon shook his head sadly. 'Vanna is dead. He was before I arrived to this planet, but I did not know. I came to see my honour brother, _not a name on a wall!_' The Archangel's fist pounded the stone wall, cracking it. The gauntlet dented slightly, yielding to the thicker rock. Slowly, Ekthalon removed the armour, gazing at his hand. The wound was already covered in a scab, the Marine's enhanced body working quickly to heal the damage done to it. It was then Lenikov noted Vanna's name carved into Ekthalon's shoulder pad, over his Chapter symbol. 'They gave me his weapons, but that's all I have to remember him.'

Ekthalon turned his sad gaze to Lenikov. 'I have no connections to this world. Not anymore.' Standing, the soldier replaced his helmet and took up the dented gauntlet. Without another word, the Archangel faded into the shadows, disappearing without a sound.

Lenikov sat, frozen by the Archangel's words. His heart ached for the sergeant. He stood, walking quickly from the room. In the main hall, he ran into Brother Rustyik, the younger Marine returning with a cowering guard captain in tow. The captain noticed Sergeant Lenikov, and he whimpered. 'Please sirs, what do you want?' The guardsman's fear came off him in waves.

Lenikov grinned at his squad mate. Over the squad-level vox he asked, 'What did you do?'

Rustyik shrugged. 'Nothing, except tell him he'd better bring his little hide with me. Why?'

The sergeant shook his head. 'Captain of the Preaorean 9th, I have some questions for you. Follow me.' He said this in a voice that brooked no room for argument.

Over the course of the next two weeks, ten Preaorean captains were brought in for interview under the pretense that Inquisitor Vassilevski had asked Lenikov to question some of the senior guard captains. When Firen went to find Lenikov, to ask him what he was doing, the Arctic Wolf could not be found.

Sitting cross-legged, Lenikov gazed out across the endless desert. His power armour closed to the environment, he felt strangely at peace, despite having gotten no closer to finding the traitor. The sergeant squinted as he noticed something falling to the ground. Magnifying his view, he could faintly see the outline of a Thunderhawk.

Lenikov stood, thinking back to what Ekthalon had told him the day before. Inquisitor Vassilevski was still two weeks away at best. He reached for his bolter as the sky grew dark. The distinctive trails of orbital drop pods streaked across the horizon. Gunships weaved through the drop pods, shooting across the desert in search of any hint of civilization. The sergeant ran for the nearest access hatch, calling frantically into the vox. 'Enemy contact! Enemy contact above Felran!'

***

Sergeant Ekthalon of the Archangels paused as he noticed a faint buzz in his helmet vox. Gazing into the sky, watching the incoming enemy, he stepped from the shadows of the cliff face, his squad deploying behind him. Motioning one of his Marines forward, he pointed at a Thunderhawk passing low over the mountains. 'Bring it down.'

The Marine nodded and shouldered his launcher. The rocket screamed from its tube, impacting on the gunship's wing. Spiraling and trailing smoke, the Thunderhawk exploded against a cliff wall, showering the Marines with debris. Two more gunships followed their sister in death before the squad retreated into the shadows. With two suns, any shadow on the surface was either the darkest night ever known, or only the faintest shade. The Archangels' black power armour blended easily, rendering them invisible.

They moved into a cave system few people knew about, even amongst the Hunters Marines. Even on Preaore, these caves were Archangel territory. In here, they would never be found, if they did not want to be.

***

Lenikov stood with his squad just outside the main airlock of the city Felran. Beside the Arctic Wolves, stood the Hunters Seventh Company. They could all easily see the incoming traitor Marines. The company chaplain spoke calmly over the vox system. 'Marines of Preaore, the forces of Kaos move against us. They believe they can conquer our home, drive us from the caverns our ancestors built. We will prove them wrong. Keep faith in the Emperor, brothers, for He knows we stand against His enemies. We are the guardians of His Imperium. Keep in His light, and-'

The chaplain broke off as a blinding spear of light connected the heavens to the earth. A massive ball of fire rose skyward, turning the area dark as sand was thrown miles into the air. A second later, the deafening noise of the explosion blasted the Marines, the shockwave throwing them to the ground. The captain stayed down as the others stood. His gaze was locked on the cloud now hovering on the horizon. Lenikov knew what the Hunter was thinking. Two billion people died, vaporized or poisoned as the planet's natural air rushed into the collapsing cavern city. The orbital bombardment lasted less than a second.

The Marines knew this was a weapon they could not combat, not from the ground. Retreating back into the capital city, they began to shut the airlock doors to the Highway, locking down the water reservoir. Each company of Hunters Marines was stationed at a different city on the planet. With two currently deployed elsewhere in the Imperium, and another just destroyed, the Hunters were vastly outmatched and they knew it. The company chaplain was silent, knowing that every Marine knew his duty.

Lenikov braced himself against the rock wall, his surroundings fading in and out of sight. He felt extreme heat and cold at the same time. Distantly, he heard screams.

'_Leave them! They're already dead.' Arctic Wolves ran past, safe inside their sealed armour. Dead and dying civilians covered the road, coughing up blood as the poison gas recently employed by the Kaos cultists ate away at their lungs. One man clawed at the Marine's boot, begging for help. The Marine left him lying on the side of the road, following his brothers further into the city. Kaos symbols were found painted on almost every building. The Wolves stopped, unsure how to take in the sight in front of them. Thousands of bodies, packed tightly together, replaced the rockcrete of the road. They could easily see where vehicles had driven over them, crushing skulls and chests. Bodies were hung from windows, cut open with their vital organs hanging below them. Their hearts still beat, the victims kept alive by sorcery known only to the worst traitors. However, even they were slowly dying from the toxins released into the air._

_ The Arctic Wolves did their best to ignore them, trying to blot out the pleas for an end to the suffering. Brother Kyr Lenikov surveyed the scene with disgust, truly believing the corrupted city should have been wiped from existence from orbit. His sergeant touched his shoulder pad, shaking his head at the younger Marine's ignorance. 'Brother Lenikov, all humans are children of the Emperor. We owe them all the same respect, and they all have the same right to live.' The younger Marine ignored his sergeant, pushing on, hoping to find some sign of the enemy. To him, that was a Marine's purpose: to find and destroy the enemies of the Imperium. Nothing more, nothing less. Those who were killed in the crossfire were just unfortunate, and could not be helped._

Lenikov's vision returned slowly. Tears fell freely at the memory. Three hundred and sixty eight years ago, when he was still a young Marine, he had not cared for the lives of individual Imperial citizens so long as the eventual outcome of the battle was a victory. He made the sign of the Aquila. 'Emperor forgive me…' He would not let that happen again, would not make the same mistakes. He vowed he would do justice to those he had ignored.

Brother Firen appeared at his side, concern written across his features as he removed his helmet. 'Brother, what happened to you?' He fumbled with the Arctic Wolf's armour clamps, taking off Lenikov's helm and gazing at his honour brother's face. 'You screamed and fell, almost forty meters from the cliff paths.'

Lenikov nodded, grimacing as pain ran the length of his body. Slowly, he climbed to his feet. 'I am fine, brother.' He looked around him, noticing the absence of his squad and the other Hunters.

Firen saw his friend's slightly confused look and answered his unspoken question. 'They have moved further into the city, establishing defense positions and moving the civilians into nuclear shelters.' The Hunter snapped his helmet back into place. 'We have been ordered to keep our armour sealed. Best replace your helmet.'

Lenikov, with the help of Sergeant Firen, locked down his armour, sealing it against the environment. Lenikov followed Firen into the city, wincing slightly as pain shot up and down his back. Slowly, he whispered the Litany of Purity, praying to the Emperor for the strength to save those he could, and begging the citizens he'd ignored to forgive him.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The crack of distant gunfire made the guardsmen around Lenikov jump and hurriedly scan their surroundings. The Astartes sergeant merely ignored them, continuing in his prayers. He prayed for the loyal servants of the Emperor killed in battle. At the same time, he asked the Emperor to guide the eternal souls of the Kaos cultists into the light, despite their many transgressions. He silently listed the names of every Guardsman and Marine killed while under his command in the past five days.

Lenikov shook his head sadly. Five days since the beginning of the war in the cavern cities of Preaore, and already ninety-two Guardsmen and twelve Astartes were dead. He grimaced as he realized that was just from his group. While the exact numbers were unknown, an estimated two thousand Guardsman were dead, along with nearly forty Marines. The sergeant chose not to make an estimate of the civilians lost.

After the city of Delran was destroyed with orbital fire, the people of Avin died as the planet's natural air flowed through the Highway. As the remaining Highway airlocks were shut, the individual cities were cut off. For reasons unknown, the Kaos forces refused to launch another nuclear bombardment. After two days, the Archangels squad was reported missing, as well as three Preaorean regiments. The Kaos assaults were sporadic and unorganized until the third day. By then the Imperials desperately needed reinforcements, but their vox networks and astropathic choirs could not find a way past the interference caused by the war effort in space.

By the dawn of the fourth day, the heretics had managed to bring heavy armor into the cities. The Imperial Navy struggled to maintain air superiority inside the caverns as more and more Kaos attack craft were deployed. Defensive positions were overwhelmed, and the Imperials were pushed back. Then, surprisingly, the war ground to a stalemate. The attacks were fierce, but the Astartes-Guardsman squads were able to repel them. Thinking back, Sergeant Lenikov realized the assaults, while still devastating, were but a fraction of what they had been.

A particularly loud explosion interrupted Lenikov's thoughts. Standing, the Marine gazed at the Guardsmen around him. Ignoring them for the moment, he turned to Brother Rustyik. 'Still no word from Firen?'

"Nothing. I've been unable to reach Apothecary Nordvik as well.' The younger Marine shook his head. 'Outside of the squad-based channels, the vox just doesn't seem to work. It's like we're the only people here, if you discount the echoes.'

Lenikov nodded. 'Guardsmen, on your feet. We should aid whoever that is,' he motioned towards the distant gunfire and explosions. 'Seems like they're having a bit of trouble.'

The troopers of the Imperial Guard moaned, but stood nonetheless. They slung their rucksacks over their backs and shouldered their lasguns. The five Arctic Wolves checked their own weapons and armour systems, ensuring that everything was combat ready. On Lenikov's command the group moved out, keeping watch over the rooftops, glancing warily at the countless empty windows. The shadows were just dark enough to stealth an enemy sniper in wait.

The group stepped past rotting corpses, around shattered tanks and land speeders. They passed smoking ruins, occasionally backtracking when a collapsed building blocked the roadway. Some of them would pause as they passed an intact structure, a relic from the old city. Except for these rare monuments, Preaore's underground cities were forever changed in the eyes of the natives.

Lenikov paused at the edge of a small plaza. Silently he gave a signal to provide cover fire if needed and slowly advanced, alone. Areas like the one Lenikov now found himself in were always deemed as "kill-zones", and were avoided as much as possible. Soldiers of the Guard feared them, and the Marines of the Adeptus Astartes dared not go near them unless no other option presented itself. All this was for one simple reason: there was no level of cover, not even a rock big enough to shelter a small rat. There was nothing to duck behind if caught in an ambush. Even a Marine could be slaughtered here if the proper weapons were brought to bear. Or if the enemy was a Kaos Marine.

The Astartes sergeant reached the center of the plaza and turned slowly, bolter rifle raised and propped against his shoulder. He scanned every window, took in every balcony. Nothing escaped his notice. Satisfied that the area seemed to be clear, he finished crossing. Leaning against the side of the building opposite the rest of his group, Lenikov let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Silently he signaled for the others to cross, one at a time. The guardsmen were shaking in their boots by the time they were across. Even Brothers Ventrek and Pavlov seemed stressed. Everyone understood the very real possibility that Death could take them into its cold embrace without notice. One moment they would be alive, tense with different emotions - fear, hate, anxiety - and the next they'd be gone, nothing to mark their passing except the empty shell of a ruined body and the lingering echo of a gunshot. Sometimes not even that.

Now Lenikov could hear the shouts of the combatants, the roar of a Marine in pain. Nodding to his brothers of the Arctic Wolves, he moved the group forward once more. He increased his pace as the nameless Marine cried again, giving the Guardsmen pause with the sound of his agony. Most of them had never heard a Marine cry out in pain before. They quickly decided they did not want to ever again. Quickly reaching the site of the battle with no further incident, Lenikov was nearly cut down by a sharp volley of enemy fire as he rounded a corner.

Dropping to the ground, the sergeant rolled back into cover. He stuck his bolter around the corner and fired blindly, forgetting for a moment to maintain fire discipline. His moment of rash action was rewarded by a slight pause in the fierce suppression fire. Immediately Lenikov and his fellow Arctic Wolves took advantage. They charged around the corner, running low to the ground. Each took in the scene in the blink of an eye.

A Hunter lay on the ground, missing an arm and much of his upper body. He still clutched his bolt pistol, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A group of terrified Guardsmen sheltered in the ruins of a collapsed school building. A horde of cultists advanced down the road, driven by three Kaos Marines of the Word Bearers Legion. The traitors could not raise their bolters in time to save them from the well-placed shots of the Arctic Wolves. Two went down in a spray of blood. The third stumbled back, snarling and returning fire with a heavy bolter. Ventrek was caught in the chest and thrown to the ground by the heavy firepower. His breastplate shattered, his chest exploded.

Pavlov stood his ground, shouldering his missile launcher. Seemingly blessed by the Emperor Himself, the rounds from the heavy weapon did not find purchase on his armour. The Wolf of Sanguinius sighted and fired, a streak of light flashing forward to end the miserable life of the Kaos Marine. The traitor's final shot shattered the bones of Pavlov's arm and sent him crashing to his knees in agony. No more than three seconds had passed.

Regaining their wits, the cultist horde pressed forward. Lenikov and his men opened fire, cutting down the mutants and traitors like wheat. Brother Rustyik ran to drag the wounded Hunter out of the combat line, Pavlov doing the same for Ventrek. The Guardsmen sheltering in the school building took what they saw as their only chance at life, and ran for the Wolves, hoping to make it past them to safety. Three were caught in the crossfire between the Imperials and the cultists. One stumbled and was cut down. The fifth made it, sinking to his knees in relief.

Lenikov stumbled as a barrage of las-rounds scored deep gouges in his armour. Loranev stepped forward, catching the sergeant as his feet lost purchase. Another las-round sliced across Lenikov's helm, shattering the sights and re-breather. Loranev pulled his sergeant around the corner and out of sight of the enraged cultists. Chunks of masonry were blasted off the building as the servants of Kaos charged forward in an effort to catch their prey before it escaped.

Lenikov tore his helm off, throwing it to the ground in anger. Turning to the others, he gave the order he always strived not to give. 'Fall back, this area is lost.'

Loranev nodded and pulled the wounded Hunter over his shoulders. Pavlov, cradling his shattered arm, gathered up the fallen Wolf, not daring to leave the servant of the Emperor to be desecrated by the approaching Kaos filth. Lenikov lead the way, ignoring everyone and everything around him. One of his oldest friends impossibly clung to life; he could see it in the faintest beats of Ventrek's secondary heart. He knew that without aid from an apothecary, Ventrek would die in minutes. With this knowledge at the forefront of his mind, he rushed through the now-abandoned streets, calling frantically into the vox for support. The Guardsmen struggled to keep up, and the screaming cultists were left behind.

It was by the grace of the Emperor that the Arctic Wolves stumbled onto a small field headquarters. Apothecaries of the Hunters Chapter came forward to take the critically wounded forms of Ventrek and the nameless Hunter. By now Ventrek's body had shut down, locking the Marine in a healing trance. Even in such a state he would have died, if not for this most graceful of blessings from the God-Emperor. Pavlov refused the attention of the apothecaries, preferring instead to attend to his commander. Rustyik remained with the Guardsmen from their group, while Loranev kept a close watch on the shivering survivor from this latest battle.

The sergeant stood on the perimeter of the base, fuming. Pavlov stepped forward.

'Sergeant, it was by no fault of yours that Brother Ventrek lies wounded.' Lenikov ignored him. 'Lenikov, Kyr, I know he was a friend from your days as a scout, some three hundred years past, but you must accept this and move on, as we always have.'

'You speak as if he is already dead,' Lenikov snarled. 'You would have me pray for his soul instead of his mind? To forget that he still lives?'

Pavlov winced as he tried to raise his wounded arm. 'Kyr, you know better than that. Brother Ventrek will live, or he will die, as the Emperor wills. Destroying your mind through fury will not persuade Him towards either option. For the moment our brother is safe, here, in the embrace of the healing trance and the apothecaries of the Hunters. Release your anger, as you have every time a brother was wounded or killed. Remember that Ventrek still lives because of your timely retreat and the grace of the Emperor. However unknowingly, you led us to this base and to these healers. Now get over it.'

Lenikov smirked. Inwardly, he knew his brother was right. It was pure chance that saw Ventrek struck down in such a fashion. Slowly, his fury abated. He noticed the way Pavlov clutched his arm. He immediately regretted his own anger and turned a concerned gaze upon his brother. 'You're arm. You need to see an apothecary.'

'Yes sergeant.'

As the Marine walked away, Lenikov raised a hand to where his helm had fractured, sending shards of ceramite into his face. The blood had already started to clot, forming a scar tissue to protect the wounds. He traced the line of scar across his eye, down to his chin. Just another scar on a body heavy with them. Dropping his hands to his sides, he scanned the encampment. His gaze alighted upon the survivor of the rescued squad.

Loranev saw his sergeant coming and interposed himself. 'Go easy on him, sergeant. He hasn't had the training or conditioning that we have.'

'He broke under the stress of combat. Any commissar worth the name would have that man executed.'

'With respect sergeant, you are not a commissar. You don't walk around shooting Guardsmen for fun.'

Lenikov shook his head. 'The man is a coward. He did not do his duty as a true Imperial Guardsman. If he and his squad had, we might not have a critically wounded Arctic Wolf on our hands. He broke and ran at the first chance he got.'

'Sergeant, you know what it is to feel fear. Even we Marines are scared. But we do not let the fear overpower us. That is what makes us Astartes: the ability to do our duty _despite_ fear.' He shook his head. 'But even knowing fear as _we_ do, do we know it as _they_ do? Think about the average Guardsman. Do you see him walking around in power armour made of ceramite? Do you see him toting bolter rifles, or bearing chapter insignia? No, because they do not. They _are not_ Marines. Therefore, they feel fear on a level we will never comprehend.'

The Marine held up a broken helm. 'This is yours sergeant. You would have left it in the field, to be taken and desecrated by the foul servants of Kaos. Before you execute any soldier, think of your mistakes, and the consequences they deserve.'

Lenikov stared at the helm. Giving a bark of laughter, he clapped Loranev on the shoulder. 'You are right brother. I was blinded by my anger. The fact that our brother lies near death is no excuse. I am sorry.'

Loranev smiled. 'Just don't let it happen again.'

The sergeant turned and walked to the edge of the camp, staring into the darkened city. He could faintly hear the echoes of distant battles. Noticing the darkness of the shadows, he was reminded of the pitch black of the Archangels' war gear. He wondered where they had gone, whether they were still alive. He bowed his head in prayer, asking the Emperor to guide the Wolves along the path set before them. He prayed for the life of Brother Ventrek, his longest friend. He prayed for the life of his strongest friend, still fighting somewhere in the city, or lying against the cold hard stone, gazing sightlessly at the rubble-strewn hell the city had become.

Hesitantly, he added Soralur Ventrek to the list of names he maintained. Coming to his feet, he turned and gathered his squad. Leaving Ventrek in the care of the Hunter's apothecaries, Lenikov led the remaining Arctic Wolves back into the darkness. And in the depths of the world, the darkness consumed him.

***

Velnath crept along the stone passageway, his ancient power armour sheltered against the strange planet's atmosphere. He would never understand why he and his host were here, but an order from the warmaster was never questioned. He and his fellow Word Bearers slid silently through the darkness. Dispatched from the Despoiler Battleship in orbit, the group had specifically been sent to find and kill a special thorn in the side of the Chaos advance.

Lately a force of unknown disposition had been attacking the Word Bearers host, destroying all in their path. The Word Bearers were forced to divert necessary armor and ships to track down these pests after four separate attack forces were slaughtered near the mountain-fortress caverns. At first, the warmaster had believed the attacks were coming from the fortresses themselves, that there was a previously unknown force hidden there. As the attacks recurred, it was found they were coming from a series of surface tunnels to the north. A team was sent to find them, and to kill the man-filth if necessary. The team failed to report in at the designated times.

A second team was dispatched, with slightly heavier weaponry. A single Havoc Marine was sent with them, carrying flamers and missile launchers. They had orders to do a light recon of the area before returning to the battleship. Sensors on the ship's control deck registered a high-yield munitions explosion minutes later. The team was unresponsive to queries from the battleship.

Finally, this third team was deployed. Consisting of nine Havoc Heavy Weapons Marines and himself, it was to be the final foray into these tunnels. Velnath grinned, his pointed teeth glinting in the light from his lamp. He'd never thought to be put in a position of such honour by the warmaster. Chosen to end the lives of these pests, these _man-filth._ He paused as he caught the faint scent of blood. The Chaos Marines behind him detected it too, momentarily savoring the smell of Imperial blood.

Velnath moved aside, directing one of the worthless Havoc Marines to take point. Now that he had a position of command, his was too important a life to risk. The team followed the scent trail easily, believing that the pests were wounded by one of the other teams and therefore had led the Word Bearers right to their lair. The team entered a large cave, perfectly spherical in its proportions. Crystal growths sprouted from the walls, hung from the ceiling. The crystals were the colour of freshly shed blood.

One Havoc Marine moved forward, entranced by the sight around him. Velnath snarled at the idiot as he made to touch one of the crystalline growths. He spun as he heard the faintest of whispers, not a sound but a feeling that something had passed through the air. The Havoc Marine next to him fell, crashing to the floor of the cave. Velnath snapped at the Chaos Marine to rise. Filling with fury at the apparent refusal to follow orders, the chosen champion of Chaos jerked the Havoc Marine to his feet. Blood splattered the front of his armour.

Leaping back, the traitor Marine ordered his retinue to stand to, placing his own weapon securely against his shoulders. Another whispering presence and a second Havoc Marine died, this one thrown against the wall, blood spilling from a dozen wounds. A third was impaled by an unseen force on one of the crystal spikes. The fourth collapsed with a silver combat knife stuck through his eye piece. Near panic, the remaining Havoc Marines followed Velnath's example and opened fire, lighting up the shadows.

A near-silent cough indicated the fall of another of the traitors. The remaining five sprayed fire everywhere, losing all semblance of discipline as the unseen killers moved amongst them. Blood sprayed and another Havoc Marine fell, his torso separated from the rest of his body. A shadow danced on the wall for an instant, and the traitor Marines turned their fire against it, hoping against hope that this was their target. Chunks of rock fell from the wall, dust filling the air. In near-simultaneous coughs of a bolter rifle, the remaining three Havoc Marines fell, holes blown through their torsos.

'_What are you?_' Velnath screamed, his eyes darting frantically about him, trying desperately to spot the enemy. A fist emerged from the shadows and struck him full in the face. The traitor fell hard, crashing against the rock. His bolt pistol and chainsword were thrown from his grip. Shadows moved amongst shadows, wraiths making themselves visible. A Marine in armour of the deepest, darkest black stood before the Word Bearer. The man's eyes were colder than the vacuum of space. He knelt next to the traitor.

'What am I?' asked Ekthalon. He granted the Word Bearer a small, sad smile. 'I am a servant of the Emperor of Mankind.' He drew his chainsword and lowered its point to the neck of the traitor. 'I am an Archangel.'

With one swift movement the Archangel sergeant separated the Word Bearer's head from his shoulders. He turned to gaze at each of his Marines. No losses so far, not from his men at least. He pointed to a Marine hefting a flamer. 'Burn them. Burn them all.'

The Archangels left the flamer unit alone, ensuring that there were not other Word Bearer kill-teams in the area. A wash of burning promethium cleansed the heresy from the mineral cavern.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

'I have a target.'

'Is the rear-guard in sight?'

'Negative. Point man is entering building two-zero.'

'Team four, can you confirm?'

'Wait one.'

Lenikov let out a long, slow breath. His eyes roamed over the buildings across from him. In one of those dark windows knelt one of his kill-teams. Two Hunters Chapter Scouts per team, they would be vital to this ambush.

'Team four here, target is confirmed. Building two-zero is occupied.'

Lenikov nodded. 'Roger. Team One and Two, take out the rear-guard. Team Three, focus on the center. Four, detonate the charges.'

For a moment nothing happened. Then, with a muffled cough, three traitor Marines died. As the others raised their weapons, the building dubbed "two-zero" exploded. Fire raged along the street, catching unarmoured cultists with its blazing fury. A second later, the building collapsed, falling across the road and crashing down on top of an abandoned apartment building. Two more explosions echoed through the street and a towering hab-unit was brought down on top of the traitors. Lenikov and his Arctic Wolves charged into the smoke.

He stepped over chunks of rockcrete, unable to see more than two meters. His brothers were but shadows in the mist. Rubble shifted, a survivor snarled at the Arctic Wolves. A grunt sounded in Lenikov's ear-piece, followed by a brief burst of noise as a chainsword powered up. He followed the sound and nearly collided with Rustyik. The Marine had a deep scratch on his breastplate where a knife had failed to catch.

'I count one survivor, sergeant.' Rustyik glanced at the dead traitor at his feet. 'But the recount said none.'

'Understood. Squad, confirm no survivors.'

'Pavlov, confirmed.'

'Loranev, confirmed.'

'All confirmed. Regroup at building one-eight.' Lenikov glanced at Rustyik. 'You have a helm, brother. Lead us out.'

Rustyik nodded and turned, using his helmet's superior optics to guide them from the drifting smoke. The two other Arctic Wolves stood with the scouts, eyes scanning the eternal darkness. The day before, the overhead sun-lamps had been destroyed, brought crashing down on top of the city by a Kaos Thunderhawk. Lenikov's eyes, while better by far than a normal human's, could barely pierce the gloom. His field of vision had been reduced to about ten meters. His broken helm was belted against his thigh. The other wolves, in deference to their sergeant, had taken to fighting without their helmets. In certain engagements though, the extra optical power was essential.

Loranev removed his helmet. 'Good engagement sergeant. Nice and quick,' he glanced over Lenikov's shoulder at the smoke cloud and continued. 'If not clean.'

Lenikov grimaced. 'No air current down here. That'll be there for days before it settles.' He absentmindedly wondered how far out-system Inquisitor Vassilevski was before thinking forward to their next fight. He turned a full three-hundred sixty degrees, taking in the sounds of combat. The sounds proved useless, echoing and coming from every direction at once. He decided to take a different tack. 'Scouts, you can lead us to the landing pad?'

'Aye. The city's layout has changed a little, what with the war and all, but we should be able to get there in four standard hours, two if we hurry.'

'Take us there, slow and steady. Then you may return to the base camp.'

The scouts nodded. The group leap-frogged their way across intervening streets, one Marine running across to the buildings on the other side while the others covered him. In turn, he would cover them as they came across. In this way, no Marine was in the open and uncovered at the same time. With traitor Marines on the loose, it paid to be careful. The further they marched, the more frequently the heard combat nearby. Passing all skirmishes without a shot fired, the Marines made good time. After the third hour, the platform could be seen towering above the buildings around it.

Lenikov stared. To the untrained eye, the landing platform looked to be in the midst of a raging fire. He knew better. An explosion lit one corner of the pad, bringing it into stark relief. He gazed, breathless, at the intensity of the battle. He'd seen worse in his long life as an Astartes, but none in the same level of darkness. From this distance it was almost beautiful.

'Marines, advance!'

On his command, the group gave up their caution, charging forward as fast as they could to the aid of their brothers. Lenikov felt a strange anger coursing through him, burning in its intensity. A foreign, yet familiar rage shouted to be heard. He snarled, seeing Ventrek battered and broken in his mind's eye. A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him into cover. His eyes met the soothing green of Loranev's.

'Sergeant Lenikov.' Loranev shook him. 'After nearly four hundred years you'll finally give into the Rage now? Is that it then?'

The Wolf mentioned one of the twin plagues of all the Sons of Sanguinius. The Red Thirst drove them to desire blood rather than water, turning them into the mythical creatures of lore. No Son of Sanguinius dared name the creature, but they all knew it. The _vampire_. The second bane was the Black Rage. As Sanguinius was cut down, the shock of his death permanently scarred the Blood Angels Legion. His anguish reverberated through their minds, driving some into a killing frenzy. The Angels were still scarred today, as were their Successor Chapters. All Sons of the Angel had to constantly strive to overcome the pull of the Rage. Those who failed were drafted into their Chapter's Death Company. Most Successor Chapters of the Blood Angels had one. The Arctic Wolves did not.

Those who succumbed to the Rage on the field of battle generally died in their next engagement, giving up all thoughts of safety, driven only by the desire to avenge their fallen Primarch. Those on the home world, Angura, wandered into the Frozen Wastes to die. Their armour and weaponry were retrieved later. Those on the ships were placed under the protective care of a company chaplain. They retained their Chapter markings, unlike the other Successor Chapters who would paint their Death Company Marines black as night.

These twin curses of the Children of Sanguinius roared and fought within Lenikov's mind, struggling for release. Loranev's eyes stared deep into his own, adding the Marine's will to his sergeant's through open support. Lenikov gasped and shook his head, red fading from his sight. He knelt, cradling his head in his hands.

'You are slowly losing the inner war, Kyr Lenikov,' said Loranev. He crouched in front of his sergeant. 'You have been more susceptible to anger, to hate. You have allowed the countless deaths we see every day to weaken your resolve. Please, do not succumb. For our sakes as well as yours. Yes, Ventrek is gone. So are Rokovski, Arkidevi, Kintev, and the others. But you are still here, fighting. Young Rustyik, with barely one hundred years of service. Pavlov, living and breathing not two meters behind you. And me. Focus, Kyr. Focus on the good things, on the graces of the Emperor, for it is in sacrifice and loyalty, honour and inner strength, _that_ is where His light lies. He will guide us through every circumstance if we would only allow Him to. And if we die, then as He wills, we will rise again at His side in time for the End of Days. Things are never as bad as they seem, Kyr. Trust in the Emperor to lead us out.'

Lenikov looked up, tears in his eyes. 'I'm losing control, Vonik. The pull is getting stronger, I can feel it. I-' He paused, eyes searching Loranev's face desperately. 'I can barely hold it back.'

Loranev shook his head, speaking softly. 'You can always hold it back, Kyr. Allow the Emperor to help you, for I cannot. Your thoughts are engulfed in pain, your every waking moment a hell that I cannot perceive. Ask the Emperor, _right now_, for strength. Maintain faith. You have held the Rage and Thirst in check for nearly four hundred years of devoted service, you will _not_ fail now. Remember always, the Emperor is watching. He will guide you.'

Lenikov nodded, regaining control over his emotions. He steeled himself, gazing at his fellow Arctic Wolves. Pavlov returned the glance, silent approval in his eyes. Rustyik smiled at his sergeant, showing his support. Their mere presence gave him strength. 'You should have been a chaplain, Vonik.'

Loranev shrugged. 'As the Emperor wills.'

Lenikov nodded. 'Aye, as He wills.'

The scouts, having stepped away to allow the Chapter Brothers to help Lenikov alone, returned to the group. They gave Loranev a cursory glance before addressing the sergeant. 'The platform is surrounded, sergeant. The Hunters Seventh Company defends, but they are severely outgunned. The traitorous filth have brought forward heavy armour.'

'Anything significant?'

'Rhinos, Predators, and a few Dreadnoughts.'

Lenikov shook his head. 'Is that all?'

'Yes sergeant.'

'Nothing too bad then. Pavlov, take the scouts and find a way to take out the enemy tanks. Loranev, Rustyik, you two are with me. Our objective is to regroup with the Hunters.'

With that the Astartes separated, no words of farewell given. Lenikov took point, burning buildings and tanks providing light. The three Wolves slipped past a group of cultists with ease, moving in complete silence. The ground shook as a massive explosion reverberated through the cavern. A huge part of the secondary landing pad broke off, wreathed in flame. It plunged to the city floor, crushing a dozen buildings beneath it. Lenikov close his eyes, the barely visible Astartes flashing through his mind as they fell. He marshaled his anger and shoved it deeper inside himself. The group of cultists they'd passed stood and ran towards the fight. For a brief moment, Lenikov thought about killing them. He decided against it.

The Arctic Wolves followed the heretics, twisting and turning through the city streets. Lenikov whispered a brief prayer for every dead Space Marine and Guardsman they passed. After one such prayer, he paused and looked back at one of the fallen Hunters. His heart plummeted as he recognized the squad markings. His hands shook. 'Darrier?' Fear of a magnitude unknown to most Marines made his voice so quiet even the God-Emperor would have trouble hearing him.

The sergeant knelt over the body, hands fumbling at the helmet clasps. His anguish made even that simple task seem impossible. Relief flooded through him as he pulled off the helm and saw the face of the dead. Brother Roan stared, sightless, at the cavern ceiling. The Marine was Brother-Sergeant Darrier Firen's second in command. Lenikov rested his hands on the squad markings on Roan's armour, hating himself for the relief he felt. He placed the helmet on the fallen Hunters chest, as he would a sword or shield. He turned and continued towards the fight, Rustyik and Loranev in tow.

Rustyik pulled alongside Lenikov. 'Something is out here, watching us sergeant.'

Lenikov paused, then continued walking. 'I know. Any ideas?'

'No sergeant.'

'Loranev?'

'Negative.'

'Pavlov?'

The Marine's voice crackled in Lenikov's ear-bead. 'Yes sergeant?'

'Either the traitors have infiltrated units, or there is an unknown element in this war. Keep alert for watchers on the rooftops, or in the darkest of shadows.'

'Understood.'

Lenikov glanced at the two other Wolves. 'We're close, brothers. Bolt pistols and chainswords only, it'll be a close-quarters charge. Fast and hard Wolves, and we'll be through before they register our presence.'

The Arctic Wolf Space Marines broke into a jog, revving their chainswords and clamping their rifles to the holsters. A moment later they rounded a corner and found the street blocked by a line of cultists. Beyond them stretched the besieging horde, as far as the eye could see. Cultists threw themselves at the defenders with wild abandon, drowning the Hunters with their blood. Traitor Marines charged the line, firing and laughing as they went. The front rank of Hunters was engulfed in a swirling melee, fighting with knives, swords, even fists. One Marine stood atop a pile of corpses, many of them Kaos Marines. The Hunter roared and rallied his men, cutting down cultists by the dozens with his bolter. The captain leapt from the pile, crashing down on top of a traitor and firing point-blank into its face before disappearing into the chaos of close combat.

Lenikov shouted as he powered into the heretics to his front. 'Wolves of the Angel, _for the Emperor!_'

The sergeant fired his pistol on full-automatic, burning through most of the magazine. With the enemy packed so close together, he didn't miss. He brought up his blade and beheaded a cultist before turning and shearing another in half. Loranev and Rustyik were quickly lost from sight. Lenikov ducked under a traitor's hasty axe-swing and rammed his shoulder into its chest. He spun, firing a single round into the heretic's face and disemboweling another. His fist lashed out, crushing a cultist's skull with the weight of the bolt pistol. The chainsword screeched, the teeth scraping against bone.

Putting all his momentum into moving forward, the Marine spun and tore the blade out of the dying traitor. He brought his boot down on a fallen heretic's head, snarling as he felt the boot hit concrete. A cultist stared in horror at the remnants of his friend before being cut down himself. A Kaos Marine parried the sergeant's next blow, screaming in berserker fury. Lenikov ducked the traitor's swing, noting the scream of the heretic behind him as the traitor's axe found purchase. The Wolf's pistol sang, rounds exploding against the heretic's armour. Lenikov stepped inside the daemon-worshipper's reach, driving the sword forward with all his might. Catching the oath-breaker just below the chestplate, the blade tore through the weak point and into the heretic's flesh. The blade's teeth ground to a halt, clogged with gore and bits of muscle and bone.

Lenikov lashed out, clearing a space around him. Firing into the horde with his bolt pistol, he slung the chainsword and unsheathed his combat knife. Charging forward once more, the Marine slashed and thrust with the new blade, its power-field hissing and easily cutting through the cultists' armour and flesh. He emptied the remainder of the pistol's clip in the face of a daemon-worshipper in the garb of a PDF Regiment. The unit insignia was unfamiliar to him. His vox bead crackled, a voice struggling to cut through a wall of static. He ignored it and un-slung the chainsword. Reversing his grip on the knife, he plunged it into the chest of a cultist before ripping it across the neck of another. A bolt round clipped his shoulder pad and spun him around.

Hastily blocking a blow from another traitor Marine, he struck and gouged a chunk out of its armour, but failed to inflict any kind of real damage. A cultist's axe clanged off his shoulder pad as the traitor to his front attacked again. Chainsword met chainsword and the weapons screeched, throwing sparks in all directions. Maintaining eye contact with the Kaos Marine, Lenikov struck out with his knife, slicing the cultist open from waist to neck. He ducked under the traitor's back swing and brought his chainsword across its arm, cutting it open to the bone. His reverse strike cut deep into the Kaos Marine's chest. It spat out blood and laughed.

His charge effectively halted, Lenikov smashed his elbow into the face of a traitor at his side. The man clutched his ruined face, coughing and drowning in his own blood. The sergeant parried another blow from the traitor Marine, returning with a strike of his own. The combat knife speared under the heretic's guard, catching hilt-deep in his side. Lenikov spun, ripping his knife out of the traitor's side and bringing his chainsword across its neck and the chests of two cultists. Even clogged and unworking, it was still a very deadly weapon.

'Hunters Seventh,' he shouted into his vox bead, hoping against hope he would be heard. He cut down two more cultists before continuing. 'Sergeant Lenikov, requesting immediate assistance!'

He sidestepped a badly aimed swing and cut open the daemon-worshipper's neck. For the briefest of moments he felt the unbearable urge to drink from the spurting blood. Disgusted with himself, he momentarily slowed his defense. The cultists around him took advantage, grabbing him and struggling to bear him down. He tore them off, but through sheer weight of numbers, was brought crashing down to the street. His fall flattened the bodies already on the ground.

The Marine struck out with all his limbs. He caved in skulls with his boots, beheaded traitors with his blades, and sent cultists screaming to their gods with his fists. The unbridled fury of his blows kept the enemy at bay, if only for a moment. A knife slid across his face, narrowly missing his eye. Blood poured from the wound, flowing into his eyes and down his armour. Another blade stabbed into the weak point between his shoulder pad and breastplate. He struggled to rise through the hail of blows, screaming his defiance to the Kaos Gods. Their laughter was echoed in the laughter of the cultists and Word Bearers.

Loranev appeared from the depths of the horde, cutting down cultists like wheat. He became a whirlwind of death and destruction, lashing out with a chainsword in each hand. At his side stood a figure wearing heavily scarred Hunter Chapter power armour. The Hunter fired his bolter rifle single-handed, wielding a power sword in the other. The captain tore into the cultists pounding Lenikov.

'Brother Lenikov, do not falter!'

Slinging his sword, the Hunter helped Lenikov to his feet. The captain smashed a traitor in the face with his rifle before spraying the surrounding heretics with bolt rounds. He stepped past the Arctic Wolf sergeant, clearing more space with well-placed bolter fire and furious slashes of his sword. Two dozen cultists lay dead at his feet in seconds. Rustyik appeared, blood leaking out of a crack in the side of his armour.

'Kaos filth.' He ducked and brought his chainsword across the chest of a cultist. 'Enchanted weapons cut right through my armour.'

'No time for talking, Wolves. Back to the line!' The captain glanced around, double-checking everyone had been found. He blasted a cultist in the face and charged forward, forging a path through the horde with the fury of his assault. Loranev stood at the captain's side, blocking the blows the Hunter did not see. Rustyik followed behind, fighting with his own unique style. Lenikov sheathed his knife, his arm going completely numb. The gash across his face had already started to heal.

Breaking through the final few meters, the group made it to the Hunters defense line. Bolter fire chased them as they ran behind a small control tower. The captain turned to face the Arctic Wolves.

'What in the name of all that's holy were you thinking sergeant?'

Lenikov shook his head. 'You needed aid captain. We provided it. Where do you need us most?'

A series of explosions made the captain pause. Lenikov looked around him, realizing how much the battlefield had changed since last he'd had an uninterrupted view. The horde of Kaos-lovers was no longer the unimaginably vast sea it had been. Fire raged the rear lines, the cultists in complete disarray. A Word Bearer Dreadnought exploded, catching nearby traitor Marines in its magnificent death. A Predator burned furiously, the flames covering the ground swiftly and engulfing a group of cultists manning a heavy stubber. Lenikov laughed, knowing in his heart that Pavlov had come through. The Hunters captain stared at his battlefield.

'Nowhere at the moment. See the apothecaries.'

'Yes captain.'

The Arctic Wolves left the Hunter to his silence, wondering at the chaos Pavlov had caused. Fires raged across what was left of the heretics. Bodies, loyalist and oath-breaker alike, littered the ground leading up to the landing pad. Not a single heretic body was on the landing pad itself. A Hunter Marine broke from the line, charging towards the Arctic Wolves. He powered into Lenikov, wrapping him in a massive bear hug.

'Lenikov! What in the name of Terra are you doing here?'

'Looking for you. Darrier, there is something out there, something not from the Word Bearers.'

Firen nodded. 'We know. Broken reports from the Archangels say there are Eldar of a previously unknown craftworld.'

'Eldar? What would they want here?'

'We believe they are hunting the Chaos filth. In turn, the Archangels are hunting them.'

Lenikov shook his head. 'Why would xenos have any interest in the Word Bearers here?'

'Again, we do not know. From the last report from Sergeant Ekthalon, he mentioned something about a "city of seas". He said he'd found the Eldar leader.'

As Firen spoke, a grinding noise filled the cavern. All eyes turned to look out at the all-consuming darkness. The Marines heard metal scrape on metal, louder than any normal noise should be. Doors of vast proportions slowly twisted open. A new sound joined the various explosions and bits of gunfire. Lenikov tilted his head, trying to recall where he'd heard it before. Firen stood stock still, shock on his face.

'Water. The water reservoirs. They're going to flood the city.'

Lenikov shook his head in disbelief. 'But why? What importance is there?'

Loranev stepped forward. 'Think about it, sergeant. An entire Black Host of Kaos Filth on a single planet, locked in combat with ignorant humans. A vast amount of water stored in the ground above them. A convenient way to end both threats to the Eldar's meager race.'

***

Ekthalon rushed alongside the small path, careful not to over balance and send himself crashing to the city below. His squad stretched behind him, running as fast as they could. An Eldar Aspect Warrior stepped out of the shadows and raised its weapon. Without slowing down, Ekthalon blew its body apart. He stepped into a side passage, his armour blending with the darkness. A few meters from the passage entrance, he knelt and lifted a grate. He nodded to his brothers and disappeared, plunging down onto the Eldar in the passage below. His sword flashed, cutting them down with little resistance. An alien warrior leapt over the sergeant, only to be cut down by the rest of the Archangels as they dropped into the secondary passageway.

Ekthalon barely dodged a hissing blade, punching the slim Eldar in the face. Its skull caved in, blood splattering the wall behind it. The sergeant turned to the lone Hunter scout behind his men. The Hunter stared in awe at what he'd just done.

'Hunter, where are the reservoir controls?' Ekthalon raised his pistol and fired, taking another Eldar in the face as it tried to sneak up on the group.

'Tunnel Seven-B. But it's too far, we won't make it in time.'

Ekthalon snarled. 'Watch us.'

The Archangels left the Hunter alone in the darkness, moving too quickly for the Preaorean native to follow them in his own tunnels. The Marines twisted and turned, dropping onto Eldar hunting parties and slaughtering them. Ekthalon paused and pointed, indicating a slight shimmer in the air on a path below them. The Archangels waited a moment more before opening fire. Three Eldar Rangers fell from the pathway, dead long before they hit the ground. Without any sound, no signals of any kind, the squad moved towards their objective.

Ekthalon glanced around him, grimacing as the full impact of his plan finally hit him. To destroy an Eldar craftworld from the ground was a daunting task, but his Archangels would get it done. The roar of thousands of tonnes of falling water grew louder. He ducked an overhanging ledge and jumped, seemingly, into open air. A second later he landed on a well-hidden ledge, known to only a few Hunters, but also to him and his Archangels. There were few passages these Masters of the Dark did not know of.

The rear guard paused, unlimbering his sniper rifle. He sighted down into the city and fired three shots in rapid-fire succession. Down below, a group of civilians found themselves saved from three Word Bearers. Ekthalon nodded to the Marine and kept moving. It would be only by his death that the people of Preaore would drown.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Water poured into the city. Streets became rivers, parks became lakes. Thousands died in that first night, and the one after. Thousands more died in the rush to get to higher ground, trampled underfoot or killed by angry mobs. All recognizable elements of civilization vanished in most parts of the city. Guardsmen were pulled away from the war effort to maintain order and stop the civilians from doing the Word Bearers' job for them. Camps were set up on the higher parts of the city, but they could only hold so many. By the end of the week bodies covered every street, some not quite dead.

Those survivors were too weak to move, dying of starvation and lack of clean water. Many succumbed to the temptation and drank from the water filling the streets. They died painfully as disease and hallucinations wracked their bodies. Kaos warbands roamed the city, dragging civilians, both living and dead, into the darkness. These unfortunates returned as hideously mutated and tortured freaks, their minds twisted with pain and heretical whispers and thoughts. Daemons stalked the streets, slaughtering the Guardsmen Peacekeeping Units. In time, Chapter Master Daik gave up trying to save every Preaorean citizen, instead protecting those in the camps, the ones who actually had a chance of survival. Lenikov and his fellows believed every Imperial soul was worth saving, and fought to do so.

The Archangels were rarely seen or heard. The civilians came to call them The Spirits of the Emperor's Wrath. Appearing as if from thin air, the Archangels saved countless lives, carrying helpless civilians to safety or ambushing Kaos or Eldar warbands. They did what no other Marine could: they owned the darkness. Even the xenos, masters of their craft, stood no chance once the Archangels found them. Only one of their number had been killed, and him taking a dozen Word Bearers with him. These Marines appeared whenever and wherever they were needed most, killing the enemy and moving on.

After two more days, three camps were destroyed, with a fourth under water. The Hunters and Guardsmen began a fighting retreat towards the main landing pad. The Arctic Wolves fell behind, escorting groups of civilians towards the evacuation sight. They knew the civilians had almost no chance of making it alone. Of all the Hunters, only Darrier Firen stayed with them, the strength of his brotherhood outweighing all other concerns. Lenikov and Firen fought side by side, bringing out the best in each other. They completed each other the way no other two soldiers could. They fought as one, needing no communication, just _knowing_. Where the Archangels were lone fighters, the Arctic Wolf and Hunter never fought apart. They were always there, supporting the other, forming an impenetrable defense.

Then the order was finally given. In two days time, Inquisitor Vassilevski would arrive in orbit. Any Marine, Guardsman, or civilian not at the landing pad by then would be left behind. Preaore would be abandoned. Lenikov and Firen were on the other side of the city.

Lenikov glanced at the civilians huddled together a few meters behind him. He turned away, whispering into his vox. 'I'm sorry Daik, repeat that last.'

'Inquisitor Vassilevski is two days out. If you're not here by then, you'll be left behind.'

'And the civilians?'

'We can't save them all.'

'That's millions of people, brother, we can't just leave them.'

'Better to save who we can, then for us to all die trying to save everyone. Daik out.'

Lenikov cursed as the connection was severed. His heart grew cold when he contemplated the distance to the landing pad, and the time it would take to get there. He glanced at the group of civilians, contemplating his options. Firen stood at his side, the Hunter's thoughts mirroring his own. The two sergeants walked ahead of the group and the civilians followed, with Loranev acting as the rear guard. Rustyik jogged ahead, scouting for Kaos or Eldar ambush parties hidden in the darkness. Firen's helmet lamp played over fallen masonry and burned out cars.

'We can't leave them, Darrier,' Lenikov whispered, indicating the group behind them. 'You know we can't. It's not right.'

Firen shook his head. 'It never is, Kyr. We're all doomed to death. We always have been.' The Hunter paused for a moment, glancing back. 'Although I could take the children ahead, get them to safety.'

'Do it. Pavlov will go with you.'

Firen nodded. 'I'll come back. By the Emperor I swear I will.'

'Don't. I'll see you at His side, brother.'

Firen hesitated, then nodded. After a brief conversation with the parents, and a tearful goodbye, two children were passed into Firen's arms. Pavlov stepped forward and took the younger child. The two Marines held the children close and pulled ahead of the group, disappearing into the darkness without another word. Lenikov stared after his honour brother for long moments before leading the group forward again. A woman walked alongside the Arctic Wolf, tears rolling down her face.

Her voice was soft, almost deathly quiet. 'Do you think we'll ever see them again?'

Lenikov shook his head. 'Not in this life, no. But they will be safe.'

The woman nodded and let out a strained, shuddering breath. She fell back into the group, shaking with grief and sorrow. The knowledge of her children's safety did nothing to ease the pain of knowing she would never see them again. Her husband wore a strange look, gazing around him without seeing. He stumbled blindly after the group. In time, he turned away, making his own way towards death.

After twelve hours of forced continuous marching, the Preaoreans collapsed with exhaustion. Lenikov knew this was as far as they could go for now. Loranev set down an elderly man and took a guard position out of sight of the civilians. Rustyik knelt beside his sergeant. He shook his head.

'I hate to say it, but we could just leave them.'

_A dying man clawed at Lenikov's armour. Blood caked his lips when he coughed._

'No, brother,' Lenikov said, paling at the old memory. 'We help the helpless, protect those who cannot protect themselves. That is our very reason for existence. We leave them, we break our oaths to the Emperor.'

'Sergeant, if we cannot make it off this world, our efforts will have been in vain. Better to leave this group and survive to save so many more.'

Lenikov blinked as the full force of Rustyik's words struck him. He blinked again as images of the past overlaid those of the present. _Bodies cut open with the vital organs hanging below surrounded them. Dead civilians paved the streets in place of concrete. Poison gases clouded the air. A younger Lenikov gazed with disgust at the dying, begging civilians._

'No!' He pulled himself from the memory with the force of his shout. Cold sweat ran down his face. He let out a shuddering breath. 'Every - every Imperial is worth saving. We _will not_ abandon them.'

He glanced around as the silence made itself heard. The civilians stared at him, fear plain on their faces. Rustyik scrutinized Lenikov's face.

'Are you okay, brother?'

'I'm fine.' Lenikov winced at the anger in his voice. 'I'm sorry Vin. I need some time alone. We'll move out in one hour.'

Rustyik nodded and moved away. Left alone once more, Lenikov prayed.

***

_ The world around Lenikov crumbled. Buildings collapsed, yawning pits opened in the rockcrete. Everything was bathed in flame. The air filled with screams of agony, anger, and grief. The road crumbled, tipping cars and buildings into the ever-growing chasm. Specters soared through the air, showing him the forms of countless billions of Imperials. He saw the faces of Loranev and Rustyik, of his long dead family. He saw the forms of Darrier Firen and Patrova Vassilevski. These spirits were pulled inexorably towards the blazing pit, screams of intense anguish issuing from their mouths. Countless brothers of the Arctic Wolves drifted by, mixed with hundreds of thousands of fallen Imperial Guard. The faint specters vanished into the chasm, screaming one word at the sergeant._

_ Traitor._

_ The Marine jerked as his armour was ripped from him, exposing his unprotected form to the elements. He screamed as his body was subject to unbearable extremes of heat and cold. The ground around him fell away, leaving the Marine standing on a single rising column of rock and earth. He roared at the surrounding fires. He is not, never has been, and never will be a traitor. This he shouted at the burning vastness of space. Cruel, cold laughter surrounded the lone Marine, echoing inside his skull, pounding him, threatening to throw him into the blazing inferno. Mocking voices filled his mind, showing him his worst fears and forcing him to remember his greatest regrets. One memory overlaid all others._

_ A city smothered in a poison fog. Dead and dying bodies were everywhere. A Marine pulled away from the begging civilians. The Marine ignored their cries for help, gazing at the fallen not with pity or sorrow, but with disgust and open hatred. Lenikov screamed, knowing in his heart that the Marine had been him. Four hundred years ago, he had been a young, arrogant, and hate-filled soldier. Utterly uncaring for the lives destroyed by him or the enemy, he only wanted to kill. His sole purpose had been to bring down the enemies of the Imperium._

_ He fought now to atone for his past sins, striving to one day prove himself worthy of forgiveness. The voices around him swore that day would never come. They laughed at his tears of pain and horror. They whispered heresies and told him of how powerful he could be, if he would only turn his back on the Corpse-God. He'd almost done it once, they said, he should finish it. They told him to release the Black Rage, to uncage the Red Thirst. In him, these daemons saw potential to be a great warrior._

_ Prayers came unbidden to his lips. His hands shaped the form of the Aquila as he turned to the one being who had the power to forgive or condemn him. The stone pillar cracked and broke, sending him tumbling into the waiting flames. Pain wracked his body. Mocking laughter followed him into the inferno. Through the agony, a golden voice reached him._

Easy, my son. Remember your past, and be forgiven.

***

_Poisonous gases clouded the streets. Bodies hung from the walls, their still-beating hearts and other organs splayed out below them. A carpet of dead Imperials replaced the stone road. The tracks of countless vehicles were evident in the crushed and pulped bodies. A dying man clawed at Lenikov's armour, blood flaking his mouth as he coughed. The elder begged for mercy, and Lenikov turned away. He flinched as a Marine behind him fired a single round into the man's chest. He felt sick. A sergeant stepped alongside him._

_ 'Every Imperial soul is worth saving, brother. If we must end their mortal lives to do so, who are we to force them to live? The Emperor will guide them. Commend their souls to Him, lad, and end their torment.'_

_ Squads of Arctic Wolves moved through the mist, bathing their surroundings in purifying flame. The sergeant moved on, granting more civilians the mercy of final oblivion. Doubts plagued Lenikov's mind as the young Marine followed his squad commander. He knelt beside a fallen Imperial, tears coming to his eyes as he gazed at the mess she'd become. His fingers played over the straps of his holster._

_ 'Do you want me to kill you?' He asked. 'To end your misery?'_

_ The woman could barely manage the nod. Blood ran in small rivulets from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her clothing hung from her emaciated frame. Lenikov nodded. He slowly withdrew his pistol and placed the barrel against her forehead. After a moment's hesitation, he fired, granting the woman an eternal end to her misery, a lasting mercy. He replaced his bolt pistol and turned away, feeling sick. As he looked about him, the young Marine knew the enemy had already gone. He thought he heard a faint shout and turned to look. The world exploded around him and voices filled his head._

_ A pawn of Kaos easily crushed the young Marine's resistance. The sorcerer inserted a new past into Lenikov's mind, showing him to be a ruthless and uncaring Marine. The real reasons for his hesitance to end the suffering of Imperials was buried behind lies._

***

Slowly, Lenikov woke. He rose painfully to an upright position. Loranev crouched next to him. Tears fell down Lenikov's face as he saw and recognized his battle-brother. Loranev's hand rested on the sergeant's shoulder.

'I am sorry not to have woken you, brother,' he said. 'But you needed to finally see. You _never_ left an Imperial to die through hatred. You have always been a kind and compassionate servant of the Emperor. You have never had anything to ask forgiveness for. You know this now. The lies of Kaos filth no longer cloud your memories.' Loranev's kind face gazed deep into Lenikov's eyes. 'Allow the God-Emperor to continue to guide you, and always remember who you are.'

Lenikov shook his head struggling to understand. 'But I've left people to die, left them to suffer. I've ignored calls for help…'

' No, Kyr, you did not. Those were lies planted by a servant of Kaos. Your hesitance to kill fellow Imperials to end their torment never stemmed from any hatred or misplaced loyalties.'

Lenikov stared at the other Marine. 'How-?'

'I was there, brother, all those years ago. I was the one who pulled your body from the flames as the city collapsed. Ever since that day, I have witnessed you strive to earn forgiveness for something you never did. You were just as compassionate and caring towards the helpless then as you are now, if not more so. Your loyalty to the Imperium has never wavered, even for a moment. You have stood between them and the hordes of darkness, and suffered greater cost for it than most servants of the Emperor could even begin to imagine. It will be hard to fully accept the truth, but please understand, brother, that you have never abandoned the helpless, never even thought about betraying the Emperor, and He has never lost sight of you.'

The Arctic Wolf sergeant latched on to the one bit of information that made sense. 'You were - you were there?'

'Yes. In time, you will remember more, as the lies wash away.'

Lenikov paused as the silence pressed in on him. He finally noticed the absence of voices, the lack of sound other than the constant drone of falling water. He glanced around, eyes narrowing. 'Loranev, where is Rustyik? Where are the civilians?'

'They have gone ahead. We could not afford to all wait here. I am sorry.'

'Who made the decision?'

'I did.'

'Thank you, brother.' Lenikov rose to his feet. 'How long ago?'

'Three hours.'

'Current water level?'

'Three hundred meters behind us and rising.'

'Then we'd best be moving. You have point brother. We will continue our discussion later.'

Loranev nodded. The sergeant followed after his fellow Wolf of Sanguinius, shaking his head and trying to organize his thoughts. His body went through the motions of surviving in an urban war zone, moving from building to building, covering his brother's advance. His mind however, was elsewhere. He knew that Loranev somehow, impossibly, knew what he'd seen. He contemplated what had just been revealed to him. Could it really be true? Could his past have all been a lie? He shook his head, struggling to maintain a hold on his sanity. He could remember both pasts, as though each were just as real as the other. His heart told him that what he'd just seen was the truth, but his mind rebelled against the possibility.

He shook his head again, focusing instead on how Loranev could possibly know what went through his mind. Could he have cried out during his vision? Or maybe Loranev was just an unregistered psyker, deserving only to be put down? Lenikov immediately felt an immense guilt at his last thought. Loranev had only ever helped the sergeant. The Arctic Wolf always brought Lenikov through every trial and sorrow without fail. There was no way Loranev could be tainted by the Kaos powers. But the thought remained with him, despite his guilt.

Loranev held up a closed fist, bringing Lenikov to a halt. He scanned the darkness, indicating that his sergeant should listen. An explosion echoed through the city, followed by distant gunfire. As explosions went, it wasn't anything special. Despite that, a feeling of wrongness swept over the sergeant. Loranev's head snapped up, eyes fixating on his commander. His voice a whisper, he told Lenikov to patch into the vox network. The sergeant immediately did so, worried without knowing why. A deep ache filled his heart. Voices vied for dominance in his ear-bead, laced with static. A single, familiar voice rose above all others. Filled with pain, it rattled off a list of coordinates, asking for assistance from any nearby Marines. The speaker screamed in pain before repeating his message.

Lenikov stood frozen, eyes locked on the ground. Loranev stepped forward, placing his hand on Lenikov's shoulder. 'Go. I will catch up with Rustyik.'

Lenikov nodded. He turned and ran, pounding through the streets as fast as he could. A single thought reverberated through him, shoving all other concerns aside. Sergeant Darrier Firen was very near death. His honour brother's scream echoed in his ears, blocking out every other sound.

***

When Lenikov finally reached the given coordinates, the vox channels had been silent for what seemed like forever. A partially collapsed building blocked the road in front of him. His eyes scanned the rubble desperately as he called his honour brother's name. He slung his weapons and tore into the pile of masonry, throwing chunks of rockcrete down the street. After a moment he climbed into the ruin, kicking over dead heretics in his search, all the while calling his brother's name. Countless fallen Word Bearers were strewn about the ruin, but there was no sign of Darrier Firen. Spent bolt casings rang as he shifted bodies and rubble. He screamed his brother's name, tears flowing down his face. Sensing movement behind him, Lenikov spun, Firen's name on his lips. Rather than the desert armour of the Hunters, he was met with the midnight black of Ekthalon and his men. Lenikov's bolter was up in a fraction of a second.

'_Where is he?'_ He screamed, tears of anger and grief clouding his vision.

Ekthalon placed his hand on Lenikov's weapon and gently pushed it down. He shook his head and whispered, 'I don't know, brother, but we will find him. I swear to you we will.' The Archangel was overwhelmed with pain and sorrow for the Arctic Wolf. Seeing the desperation in Lenikov's eyes hurt him more than any weapon of Kaos ever could.

Lenikov slumped to the ground, dropping his boltgun and cradling his head in his hands. He shook with his silent cry, his only sound a quiet moan of anguish. Ekthalon knelt with the Arctic Wolf, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. A name carved into Ekthalon's armour glinted in the light from his team's shoulder lamps.


	8. Chapter 7

'_Even in death, I still serve.'_

Chapter 7

The sunlight glared harshly off the endless blanket of snow. Flakes drifted down from the heavens, swirling around the two Marines. Brother-Captain Riktovi raised his head to the sky, taking in the brewing storm. Icy winds brushed across his face, but he felt nothing. He glanced across at his companion before continuing on. The landing fields weren't much farther. The two Arctic Wolves were near impossible to spot, their armour camouflaging perfectly with the surrounding snow. Ios Zukev followed the Captain, his servo-arms twitching. He knew their actions were not sanctioned by the Chapter Master.

Riktovi crested a rise and the endless Moskva Ice Fields stretched before him. The world's oceans were buried beneath miles of ice, creating a field more vast than any found on other planets in the Imperium. The ice stretched unbroken from one horizon to the next, the only land in sight now behind him. Riktovi's company stood before him, ready to begin loading procedures. Thunderhawk engines began warming up as the first squads stepped aboard. Riktovi joined his command squad and marched aboard a waiting gunship. Zukev hesitated before following him.

'Are you sure we should be doing this, Captain? We do not have Master Voychev's approval.'

Riktovi glanced at the Tech-Marine, his surprise clear. 'Brother Lenikov is an Arctic Wolf is he not? He is a battle-brother from _my_ company, and I will not leave him to die. We are not the Imperial Guard: we take care of our own.'

Zukev shook his head. 'But Captain, we do not even know if Lenikov is in any danger. All we have to go on is the word of an Inquisitor, and they lie through their teeth. We don't have any facts.'

'What we do know is that an Inquisitor is attempting to obtain our presence on a planet of the Imperium. That would imply that there is a _heretical_ presence as well. _That_ would imply that there are citizens of Humanity who will soon die, if they haven't already. Are we not Space Marines? Is it not our duty to protect the Imperium of Man? That does not mean to protect only the borders, or the politicians or commanders. It does not mean to fight only when and where the Chapter Master says so. It means we fight to protect every citizen, no matter their station, no matter the cost. Now sit down and get strapped in.'

Zukev bowed his head and did as he was told. With a roar of engines the Thunderhawks took to the skies. The Third Company's Strike Cruiser, _Wolf of Angura_, waited in orbit, preparing to enter the warp. Within one hour, the company was ready. Opening a hole in reality itself, the _Wolf_ vanished.

***

The landing pad was filled with Thunderhawks and terrified civilians. Marines and Guardsmen rushed to the defenses, trying desperately to hold off the Kaos hordes. A rocket flew past the outer line, smashing into a Thunderhawk that had already begun boarding operations. It exploded, killing the people inside and the thirty or so civilians unfortunate enough to have stood around it. Pavlov stood back as medics of the Guard rushed to aid the fallen, and troopers poured water over the fire. He lifted the two children off the damp ground, lest they be trampled if a real panic started. His thoughts wandered, resting on the fate of Darrier Firen.

The Hunter was missing, probably dead. He'd given Pavlov a chance to get the children to safety, and that's all that mattered. The Arctic Wolf pushed it from his mind. He glanced around as one of the children began to cry. Having never before dealt with such things, Pavlov awkwardly tried to soothe the child, tried to comfort her. As the younger of the two, the trek had been harder on her than her brother. He guessed she was about four, maybe five years old. The boy looked closer to six or seven, but he was not sure. He gazed back at the battle as a voice rose above the din of combat. A dreadnought slaughtered traitor Marines and cultists by the dozens, shouting from its external speakers at the Guardsmen and Marines around it. He knew it was trying to rally them, to strengthen their resolve. He could probably recite its speech without actually hearing it.

Pavlov began to move further from the battle, but paused as the dreadnought shouted again. 'In the name of Sanguinius, hold! The Sons of Angura will not let Preaore fall! Neither shall you!'

A missile streaked from the oncoming horde, impacting on the Dreadnought. Fire spread across its hull and the machine roared in fury. A second rocket blew off an arm, nearly shattering the left side of the walker. It staggered forward, obliterating heretics with its multi-melta. It knocked a traitor Marine flat and brought its foot crashing down, ending the cultist's life in an instant. A Hunter Captain shouted at the machine to fall back, to recover. The captain ran forward, leading his command squad into the enemy.

The Hunter crested a bank of bodies and leapt feet first into the horde, his power sword a blaze of righteousness. He cut down three Kaos Marines before a bolt round blew through his armour. A cry rose from the defenders as the captain fell. The command squad rushed to bring the Marine to safety, but were pushed back. One by one, the command squad of the Hunters Seventh Company was killed. The captain's body remained where it had fallen, trampled into the dust and blood as heretics charged towards the waiting Thunderhawks and civilians.

The Dreadnought screamed in anger and frustration. Firing another blast into the oncoming horde, it turned and stalked behind the line to safety, smoke billowing from the damaged hull. The line closed behind it, firing disciplined volleys into the Kaos worshippers. With a magnificent, reverberating crash, the opposing forces met in close combat. Pavlov turned away.

Shouts and cries of terror ran through the crowd as a group of figures rose on wings of fire, sending them over the defense line and into the mob of civilians. One of the heretics angled for Pavlov, a lone Marine in a sea of noncombatants. Easy prey. The traitor fired at Pavlov as it descended. The bolt round bounced off the Arctic Wolf's shoulder pad. Pavlov grunted as another bolt round hit his chest, gouging a chunk out of his armour. The Marine stepped forward and raised his heavy bolter, firing a long burst at his enemy. The Kaos Marine cut off power to his jump pack and dropped, barely passing under the majority of the shells. One hit him in the side and threw him off balance. The traitor crashed to the ground, crushing two unfortunate civilians. It came up roaring, cutting down civilians with its chainsword and leveling its pistol directly at Pavlov.

The Marine, careful of the children behind him, dropped his heavy bolter and lashed out with his boot, shattering the traitor's wrist and sending the ancient bolt pistol flying into the crowd. Lasrounds splashed against the oath-breaker's armour as a group of Guardsmen pushed through the crowd. The traitor laughed as a second Kaos Raptor landed amidst the Guardsmen, chainswords swinging. Another bolt round smashed into Pavlov's helmet, knocking him off balance.

He gasped as intense pain enveloped him. He punched the traitor in front of him, cracking its chestplate. His other hand connected with the side of its head, sending the heretic to the ground in a spray of blood. The Arctic Wolf stumbled back as his body began to go numb. He glanced down, seeing for the first time a knife stuck up to its hilt in his chest. Kaos runes covered the handle, glowing red. His strength waning, he tore it out of him, tossing it away in disgust. A Kaos Raptor fired at him but missed, the shot speeding past him and killing a civilian.

Pavlov barely noticed the carnage around him, his mind being consumed by whispering voices and a gnawing, inescapable rage. He focused his gaze upon the rising traitor and struggled forward, battling the darkness within. A heretic stepped up beside him and sent him crashing to the ground. Bloodlust and Rage escaped from the Son of Sanguinius in the form of a pure, animalistic roar of hatred. His mind and soul thus consumed, that which had once been Brother Pavlov of the Arctic Wolves pulled a Kaos Marine to the ground, his hands clawing at the traitor's face and throat. Blood flowed as Pavlov's teeth tore into his opponent's neck.

The fallen Marine roared and leapt at another traitor, teeth flashing, hands bent as claws. The heretics were unprepared for such savage and unbridled ferocity. The animalistic being in their midst tore them apart, evading their now desperate attempts to kill him. This forsaken follower of the Emperor then turned on the civilians. Ripping the throat from an elderly man, the former Pavlov fastened his teeth on the gaping wound, and _drank._

***

Rustyik shook his head as he walked ahead of the refugees. _Why should I die here, to defend six people, when I could live and save thousands, if not millions more?_ He paused, then shrugged. He was an Astartes, as Sergeant Lenikov had pointed out. Protecting every civilian in a hopeless defense might not be to his liking, but the Marine would follow his orders. His lot in life was not to question, but to obey immediately without question unless his orders went against the Imperium. He grinned as he realized even Kyr Lenikov would have disagreed with that.

_'Without questions, there is no knowledge. Without knowledge, there is no power. Without knowledge we are as children against the endless tides of Kaos, weaklings, without strength or power. Now come, Brother Rustyik: what is it that occupies your mind?'_

Without knowledge, there is no power. The famous Blood Ravens Chapter emphasized this with their oath: 'Knowledge is Power and We must Guard it Well'. Rustyik was no Blood Raven, but he still understood, and occasionally agreed with their saying. And thus, his questioning nature. Rustyik glanced at the civilians behind him, double checking that everyone was present.

The distant sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed and warped throughout the city, while the ever-present drone of falling water reverberated through the air. The light from Rustyik's shoulder lamp cut a beam through the darkness, alighting on crumbled buildings, destroyed cars, and bodies. There were too many bodies. Every second it seemed they would flash in the light or he would have to step over a group of fallen civilians. The refugees behind him always cowered away from the fallen, terrified and disgusted by the corpses. Some sported bullet holes, or looked to have died of starvation, lack of water, or disease. Others looked as though they were half eaten.

The Arctic Wolf knew daemons stalked the eternal night, and took the macabre sights as further evidence. He tightened his grip on the bolter rifle and double checked his surroundings. Behind the refugees he could see his light playing off the rising water. He turned, ordering the civilians to increase their pace. A long, inhuman shriek echoed in the darkness, playing off the buildings around the group. The refugees shouted in terror, covering their ears and falling to their knees. Rustyik swore.

'Get up,' he shouted, lifting a man to his feet, pushing him forward. '_Move!_ Go, go!'

He brought up his rifle and fired a short burst into the impenetrable dark. His eyes could barely pick out movements, shadows on shadows. He turned, jogging behind the civilians and keeping the light in front of them. Claws scraped off the rockcrete behind them, growls surrounded them. A shadow flashed through the light, absorbing it, and carrying a civilian into the dark. His screams cut off with a sickening crunch. Rustyik fired his bolter as another daemon leapt at the group.

The bolts exploded against the shadow form and threw it to the ground. Immediately it leapt to its feet and screeched, its jaws stretching wide enough to engulf a full-grown man's head. A dim red glow lay within its maw, and row upon row of teeth filled the creature's mouth. Claws larger than Rustyik's combat knife gleamed in the lamplight. He shot it again as it jumped at him, throwing it into the darkness and out of sight.

On intuition, he unsheathed his chainsword and spun, catching a daemon in the chest. The blade did nothing more than send up sparks and throw the creature away from the group. Bracing his bolter against his side, Rustyik fired after the daemon. He turned, swinging the sword at chest height. Catching another of the shadow-forms in the back, he forced it to the ground. As the Arctic Wolf raised his bolter to fire, another daemon slammed into him, its claws raking across his armour.

The shadow-creature tore Rustyik's bolter away and bit into his neck. He roared, ripping it off him. He rose to his knees and un-holstered his pistol. The Wolf spun, firing at anything that moved. He was achingly aware of the fact that he was alone. The civilians were gone. He did not know if they'd run away or had been killed, and a sense of failure pressed down on him. Claws ripped across his chest, drawing blood and sending him stumbling backwards.

The Marine fired his pistol, blowing a daemon into the dark. He turned, bringing the chainsword cutting upward, catching a shadow-form in the chest. The creature screeched as the blade finally found purchase and ripped it in half. Rustyik shouted in pain as claws stabbed into him, ripping through his side. He stumbled, the chainsword dropping from his hand. Teeth bit into his arm, tearing through the ceramite armour. He placed the barrel of his bolt pistol against the daemon's head and fired. The creature's blood splashed against the Marine, burning through his armour.

Rustyik turned, raising his pistol to fire at another daemon. It leapt at him, bearing him to the ground. Its teeth found his neck, and its claws speared his arm to the ground. Other shadow-creatures joined the first, ripping through the Marine's armour and into the flesh beneath.

***

Loranev glanced up as massive explosions shook the cavern. Portions of the ceiling fell in, bathing the cave with Preaore's natural light. The Marine looked away, momentarily blinded. The cries of thousands reverberated through the air as civilians and Guardsmen realized what just happened. Marines crammed as many civilians into their Thunderhawks as possible before sealing the gunships against the atmosphere.

Loranev's eyes widened as his toxicity meter shot into the red. The natural air of Preaore filled the cavern. Thousands of civilians and Guardsmen died, their lungs ripped to shreds by the air. The sound of ancient gears coming to life shook the air; a metallic grinding reverberated through the city. The war paused as the combatants tried to listen. Loranev laughed as he realized what was missing. There was no falling water. The reservoir doors were shut once more.

Invigorated by this small victory, the Hunters Marines charged the Kaos attackers. A Marine clapped his hand on Loranev's should pad. He wore the midnight armour of the Archangels. He pointed towards the sun. 'Look to the skies for our salvation, brother.' The Marine turned and charged into the fires of combat. Loranev glanced upward and blinked. He could see the tell-tale signs of space combat, far above. _The Navy was destroyed days ago…_ He turned as a new sound made itself heard. Thunderhawk engines roared as they powered up. A single, midnight black gunship lifted off the landing pad and arced towards the sky. The sigil of the Archangels glinted in the harsh sunlight.

Loranev spun, eyes searching the chaos of combat. Spotting the Archangel, he ran forward, drawing his pistol. He fired at a charging Kaos Marine, sending the explosive bolt through its neck. He fired again, as another Word Bearer turned to face him. He aimed at the Archangel, calling for him to explain himself. The Marine fired a single round, warning the other soldier not to go any further. In seconds, the Archangel was at Loranev's throat, bearing him to the ground. Loranev shifted and threw the Marine over him. He climbed to his feet and turned, raising his rifle. A fist smashed into the side of his head, throwing him to the ground once more. Loranev ignored the pain, his eyes resting on the barrel of a bolter rifle. The Archangel spoke, his voice low and forceful.

'Is it common Arctic Wolf custom to fire on their allies?'

Loranev ignored the question. 'Where is that Thunderhawk going? You let civilians die!'

The Archangel pointed to the sky. 'That Thunderhawk? Believe me, brother, no sane civilian would want to board that gunship. Better that they die by the natural toxins of their homeworld.'

'Why is it abandoning us?' Loranev could barely restrain his anger.

The Archangel stepped back and held out a hand. 'Abandoning? No, brother of the Wolves, it will bring us salvation.'

***

Brother Rynoth seriously contemplated the sanity of what he hoped to achieve. His Thunderhawk banked sharply, narrowly avoiding the blasts of energy. Laser bolts and torpedoes crossed the void of space in seconds, impacting on ships of all three fleets. An Imperial Battlecruiser detonated as a cluster of missiles punched through its hull to the reactor. A Kaos ship, vile and corrupt, split in half under the furious assault from an Eldar Craftworld. This was the Archangel's target.

Massive on an unimaginable scale, the Eldar ship dominated the battle. Scything through the Kaos and Imperial fleets with ease, it was almost untouchable. Even without shields the thing was easily the match of any combined fleet in the galaxy. Rynoth shook his head and gave a rueful grin. He was completely insane. He pushed his gunship to its limit, barely avoiding a thousand different deaths each second.

A cluster of nuclear detonations on the side of the Craftworld gave him the go signal. Doing a quick armour check, the Marine scowled and sent his gunship forward. He grunted as an energy blast shook the Thunderhawk. The hull shrieked as it was stressed to its limit. Portions of the gunship broke off as another blast glanced off the armour.

The scale of the Eldar ship grew with astonishing speed the closer Rynoth got. Weapons of every kind covered its surface. It was unusual to see an Eldar ship, even a Craftworld, so heavily armed. But then, this was no usual Craftworld either. This was the ship of an army resigned to its fate. The Eldar from the Kra'tan Craftworld knew their species was dying, and did not attempt to dance around that fate as their brethren did. They fought directly against the forces of Kaos rather than combat the darkness with manipulations, deception, and sorcery as the rest of the Eldar race did. They were all about to die for it.

Rynoth's Thunderhawk powered through an energy field and into an Eldar hanger. Unable to slow the speeding gunship, he was bathed in flame as it impacted on the far wall of the bay. Flames and debris exploded outward, smashing aside the Shadowhunters and their pilots. The survivors of the initial explosion fell to the deck as the gases from the twenty Life-Eater bombs aboard the Thunderhawk were released. The virus spread throughout the ship with lightning speed, killing every living organism onboard. Seconds later, a heavily reinforced case in the wreckage of the Thunderhawk detonated. Its cleansing fire fed on the gas left behind the Life-Eater. The Craftworld exploded.

***

The Archangel stood, watching the debris for long moments. He spoke into the vox network, his voice full of pain and loss. 'This is Brother Sylkev of the Archangels to all Hunters and Arctic Wolves. The path to survival is now secure. You may begin evacuation procedures when ready.'

Thunderhawks immediately took to the skies. Missiles streaked after them, most speeding past them into the cavern walls. A few impacted on the gunships, bringing them back to the ground in trails of flame. A second later, another voice came over the vox. Filled with pain, the speaker shouted to be heard over the background noise of gunfire.

'This is Brother Kythor of the Archangels. The reservoir doors are closed, but the Eldar are making ready to blast them. I cannot stop the aliens. I am sorry, I have failed.'

***

The Archangel was a blur of motion. Kythor ducked under an Eldar's sword swing before impaling it on his knife. He spun, firing his bolter rifle into another alien's face. He never stopped moving, never presented a stationary target. There were just too many. At least fifty Eldar were dead by his hands, but they kept coming. His rifle clicked on empty, so he fought with his armoured fists and boots. He grabbed a xeno and threw it across the room. He heard bones crack as his knee connected with the side of another alien.

Kythor grunted as an Eldar blade passed through his armour. He crushed the xeno's skull before falling to his knees. The Aspect Warriors around him gave a cry of praise to their bloody god as the Marine was impaled on their swords.

***

Faint screams echoed in Lenikov's mind. Gasps of pain, roars of hatred and fury. Occasionally the voice would become strikingly clear, before dissolving back into the throes of unimaginable agony. There were other voices too, each asking different questions and whispering different heresies. They did not concern him, for in every burst of pain-filled clarity, the first speaker would always say the same thing. _Sergeant Darrier Firen, Hunters Chapter Seventh Company. The Emperor is my shield, and I am His blade._

Lenikov didn't know how many times he'd heard it now, didn't want to know. He ran behind the Archangels, trusting Ekthalon's guidance more than he trusted himself. Ekthalon's squad became more deadly with every new loss. After one such loss, a Marine named Kythor the day before, Ekthalon ambushed and slaughtered a group of daemons twenty strong. Ekthalon and his men worked in complete silence, each moving as though they knew the others' thoughts. This was not the case. After centuries of warfare in the same unit, they knew each other far better than they knew themselves. They moved ahead of Lenikov, clearing the way with ease.

Lenikov shook his head, clearing it of the voices. He stepped alongside Ekthalon. 'He's not here. We should move on.'

Ekthalon nodded, not questioning how Lenikov knew this. In truth, Lenikov himself didn't even know. With each burst of agony he turned in one direction or another. Their path was erratic, moving throughout the city seemingly without a goal. The Marines left a long trail of dead heretics and daemons behind them. Lenikov tried to clear his thoughts, realizing the Archangels were still awaiting the new directions. He wordlessly pointed down a side street.

He grunted, the sound muffled behind his rebreather. Pain flared through his mind, accompanied by a long, agonized scream. He stumbled as the cry surrounded him and nearly drove him to his knees. The echoes of the distant torment faded from his mind, leaving him cold and empty. Hands reached to steady him and he looked into the eyes of Sergeant Ekthalon. Pushing past the Archangel, Lenikov forged his way through the war-torn city. Distant explosions and gunfire echoed, the sounds fading the farther Lenikov went. Passing from the light of Preaore's sun, the Arctic Wolf led Ekthalon and his Archangels back into the realm of darkness and shadow.

There was only one echo. _'Sergeant Darrier Firen, Hunters 7__th__ Company. The Emperor is my shield, and _I_ am his blade.'_


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

They fell. Trails of smoke streaked across the sky. Loranev watched as the first of the orbital drop pods descended into the broken cavern. It smashed into the ground, steam rolling off its hull. The ramps blew open, flying off the pod and into the Kaos Marine horde. A single voice rose above the roar of combat.

'_Sons of Angura, for the Emperor!'_

Marines charged forth, into the heretics surrounding them. A power sword flashed, sliding through the traitors' armour with ease. The new arrivals cut through the horde as more drop pods crashed to the ground. In seconds, at least forty new Marines were deployed. The Word Bearers were caught between them and the Hunter line. What had been a sure defeat for the Hunters quickly turned into a slaughter of heretics. Bolters roared, nearly drowning out the crazed laughter of the Word Bearers. That laughter followed them as they were sent to meet their gods, the righteous fury of the Marines overcoming their efforts. For the first time during the war on Preaore, the landing pad fell silent, the din of combat now gone.

Loranev gazed in awe at the Marine leading his brothers to the defense line. He knelt, touching his fingers to his helm. 'Captain…'

Riktovi lifted the Marine to his feet. 'Brother Loranev. Where is Lenikov? For that matter, where are Pavlov, Ventrek, and Rustyik?'

'Ventrek and Pavlov have passed into the embrace of the Angel. Brother Rustyik and Brother Lenikov are missing.'

Riktovi flinched at the news of Ventrek's and Pavlov's deaths. He slowly shook his head. The captain turned as another Marine approached.

'I am Chapter Master Daik,' said the newcomer. Daik looked around him, at the carnage and death. He gazed at the Arctic Wolves now clasping hands with, and embracing his Hunters. 'Praise the Emperor for your arrival. The Hunters are in your debt.'

Riktovi bowed. 'Brother-Captain Riktovi, Arctic Wolves Third. Inquisitor Vassilevski is on her way. Excuse me.' He turned to Loranev.

Daik stepped forward. 'Wait, you have an Inquisitor?'

Riktovi nodded. 'Aye. It was her who informed us of your plight. She will be landing shortly, provided the escorts hold off the Kaos fleet.'

Daik stared at Riktovi a moment longer before turning away. Riktovi patched into the fleet command vox. 'Fleet Admiral Ruln. Inform Inquisitor Vassilevski that she will have to wear a breathing unit while planetside. She may want to be careful of the Hunters Chapter Master as well.'

'Aye, captain. She will be notified. She will be on the surface within the hour.'

'Understood. Riktovi out.' The Arctic Wolf captain looked up as Thunderhawks descended into the cavern. He turned his gaze towards Loranev. 'Brother Loranev, Sorev wishes to speak to you. When you are done with him, report back to me.'

'Aye captain. Where is he?'

Riktovi pointed and Loranev nodded.

***

Brother Valur Sorev gazed at the carnage around him. His mind echoed with the psychic death screams of so many Marines, loyalists and traitors alike. He limped forward, clutching his farthenwood staff tightly. He smirked and shook his head. He hated his disability. An Astartes should never have to rely on a crutch. He turned as he sensed another being approach. 'Brother Loranev. It's been a long time.'

Loranev knelt, whispering quietly. 'Four hundred years.'

Sorev guided Loranev to his feet. 'Aye. How is your charge? Is he well?'

'No, he has gotten worse. His honour brother is missing, possibly dead. The Rage and Thirst are closer to the fore than usual.'

'And his memory?'

'Returned to him.'

Sorev nodded. 'That, at least, is good. Ever since you pulled him from that cursed city your fates have been intertwined, more so than even you will ever know. Does he know this?'

'No, brother.'

Sorev smiled. 'That is for the best, I think. You have done well.'

'Thank you. Will that be all?'

'Yes. You are dismissed.'

Loranev nodded and returned to Captain Riktovi to begin the search for Lenikov and Rustyik. Sorev gazed after him, his smile fading. He sent a last burst of thought after the younger Marine: _Beware the darkness, brother Loranev._

Loranev raised a hand in farewell and led Riktovi into the city.

***

_How long has it been now? Two days? Three?_ Lenikov shook his head, walking in silence. He stepped around a burned-out car and gazed at the ruins around him. They looked disturbingly familiar. _Are we going in circles? _He paused, glancing around him in momentary confusion. The Archangels came to a stop a few meters behind him. Wordlessly, they spread out, covering the different avenues of approach. Ekthalon stepped alongside him.

'What is it?'

Lenikov pushed on a door, watching as the rotten wood crumbled in on itself. 'Have we passed this way already?'

'No. This place is unfamiliar to me.'

Lenikov nodded and continued on. Pain seared through him and he turned onto another street. He could barely stay standing. He grunted with effort. After a few unsteady steps, he fell to his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps through the rebreather. 'Ekthalon…' The Archangel knelt before him. 'Where… where are the bodies?'

Ekthalon hesitated. 'What bodies?'

Lenikov gasped as pain drove through him again. Distant screams echoed faintly in his ears. 'The civilians… Everywhere else there were bodies…'

Ekthalon glanced around. 'The daemons probably took them. Who knows how many died here? Maybe most of them made it to other parts of the city before they were killed.'

Lenikov shook his head and struggled to his feet. Agony coursed through him, but he managed to keep his balance. Slowly, with each new step forward, the pain abated. The ruined husks of buildings on each side of him dropped away. Blinking in surprise, Lenikov found himself on the edge of a vast canyon cut deep into the ground. He could faintly see the outlines of more buildings on the far side of the trench. He hesitated, looking for some form of a bridge. Finding none, Lenikov shrugged and stepped onto a narrow, steep ledge. He slowly led the Archangels ever deeper into the bowels of the world.

***

_The Rhino Transport shook under another Impact. The ceramite and adamantium hull rang as thousands of rounds bounced off of it. Lenikov braced as the armoured personnel carrier nearly flipped after being struck by another missile. Arkidevi laughed and Kintev cuffed him. Loranev prayed silently and Rokovski whispered litanies under his breath. Pavlov, somehow, slept. Daviskoe and Rustyik both stared at Pavlov in amazement as the Rhino took another hit and the Marine still did not stir._

_Red lighting filled the interior of the transport. The roar of the engines did nothing to block out the raging gunfire and explosions around them. The vox was filled with orders, screams, and requests for aid. The Hunters Seventh was surrounded and being slaughtered. The Arctic Wolves Third Company went to help. One voice in particular rose above the chaos of the vox network._

'_This is Sergeant Darrier Firen of the Hunters Seventh Company. We are taking heavy fire and have lost fifty-one –' An explosion echoed in the background. 'Correction, fifty-two Marine. We require immediate assistance.'_

_Lenikov readied his weapon and his squad followed suit. Pavlov slowly opened his eyes. Rustyik whispered something to Daviskoe and they rocked with silent laughter. Pavlov glared at them before turning his gaze to his heavy bolter. Loranev's eyes swept across the interior of the Rhino, coming to rest on Lenikov. He stared at the sergeant a moment before nodding, seemingly to himself. The hull of the transport rang as a sizeable blast tore into the ground nearby, showering the Rhino with rocks and dirt. A minute later, the APC abruptly stopped and the assault ramp slammed open. The Arctic Wolves were ready._

_They charged into hell. Pillars of fire rose hundreds of meters into the night sky. Gunships spiraled to the ground, detonating in magnificent bursts of flame. Wrecked Predators and Leman Russ MBTs littered the field. Bodies covered nearly every inch of grass and blood saturated the ground. Screams of hatred, anger, and pain vied for dominance with the roar of hundreds, if not thousands of weapons. Explosions and gunfire repeatedly brought sections of this landscape into stark relief._

_A screaming cultist ran out of the darkness towards them, waving a long axe above his head. Lenikov fired a single shot through its chest and took cover behind a ruined Land Speeder. The sergeant scanned the field, watching as his fellow Arctic Wolves deployed. His captain shouted and raised his sword to the sky. His words were lost to Lenikov, but his meaning was not. The Warriors of Angura would stand by those of Preaore until the end. Lenikov nodded to himself._

_He led his squad away from the deployment zone, towards the embattled Hunters. They engaged and killed every cultist in their way without losing their forward momentum. Lasrounds splashed across his armour, but he paid them no heed. He powered into a Kaos Marine, taking the time to fire once into its face. Stepping over the corpse, Lenikov raised his bolter and fired again. Cultists fell to the ground, blood spraying in magnificent arcs. The sergeant watched, mesmerized, as the spray hung in the air for the briefest of moments before gravity took hold. A shout snapped him out of the trance._

'_Look out!'_

_Acting on instinct, Lenikov threw himself to one side. A rocket slammed into the ground where he'd been a moment before, the blast throwing him farther still. Climbing to his knees, he glanced about him for the source of the warning. A Hunter Marine lay a few meters away, caught out in the open. He fired a long burst at a charging heretic before turning back to Lenikov to see if he'd made it. The Hunter nodded with satisfaction as Lenikov stood. Content that his warning had been sufficient, he returned his attention to the line of heretics steadily encroaching on his position._

_Lenikov shook his head and ran to the Hunter's side. A quick glance told him why the Marine was in the open: his legs were a mess. The sergeant knelt over the Hunter and fired a quick burst of rounds at the traitors before pulling the Hunter across his shoulders. He stood and grunted at the weight. 'Curse those who can't walk on their own two feet,' he muttered, barely loud enough for the Hunter to hear him. 'Loranev, cover me!'_

_At a nod from his fellow Arctic Wolf, Lenikov ran back towards the ruined husk of a Predator. Bolt rounds kicked at his heels as a heavy bolter opened up. Time stretched into eternity and Lenikov willed himself to move faster. The Hunter on his back screamed as a round detonated in his back. The sergeant stumbled, nearly dropping the Hunter, when another round slammed into his leg, right below the knee. He crashed onto the ground behind the tank, releasing his hold on the wounded Marine._

'_Thank you brother,' the Hunter gasped. 'I owe you my life.'_

_Lenikov laughed. 'You owe me nothing. You were kind enough to warn me about the rocket, after all.'_

_The Hunter shrugged. 'Wouldn't have needed to if you weren't so fascinated with blood.'_

'_And I wouldn't have needed to haul you back here if you weren't too lazy to walk.'_

'_Who's lazy?'_

_Lenikov shook his head and held out his hand. 'I'm Brother-Sergeant Kyr Lenikov, Arctic Wolves Third.'_

_The Hunter clasped hands with Lenikov briefly. 'Brother-Sergeant Darrier Firen, Hunters Seventh. Fancy carrying me out of this mess?' He grinned._

***

Lenikov shook his head, pulling himself from the memory and banishing it to the depths of his mind. He look around. It had taken them two, long hours to reach the bottom of the trench, leaving him time to think and to remember. He paused, unsure how to take in the sight before him. Ancient runes were carved into the rock walls and floor, pulsing with a faint red illumination. A small cave receded into the opposite wall, fading out of sight as it passed from the range of the Archangels' shoulder lamps. Ekthalon stepped forward, reaching a hand out towards one of the runes. They could all feel its call in their minds, pulling them closer. At the last second Ekthalon realized what he was doing and stepped away from the wall. He gazed about him.

'This place is evil. We should not be here.'

Lenikov nodded absentmindedly. In truth, he hadn't really heard the Archangel. His eyes struggled to penetrated the gloom of the cave. Slowly, but with gaining speed, he walked towards it.

'Lenikov?'

Ekthalon's voice sounded muffled and faint, even though he was practically right next to the Arctic Wolf. Ekthalon stepped forward and touched his arm. 'Lenikov?'

Lenikov shrugged the touch away and stepped forward once more, moving ever closer to the tunnel mouth. Now he could see it was fashioned to represent the maw of a giant daemon. Even seeing this, he could not resist its siren call and continued to move towards it. His boots echoed painfully in the otherwise perfect silence. His hand passed through the tunnel entrance and pain lanced up his arm. Lenikov's eyes rolled back and he collapsed forward. Agony embraced him as the rest of his body fell into the cave mouth. The seconds stretched on and on. Unimaginable pain coursed through him, and he finally lost consciousness as Ekthalon surged forward and shouted his name.

***

Loranev gazed down at the remains for a long time. Riktovi placed a hand on the Marine's should and turned away. Even Apothecary Nordvik could not bare the sight of the body. Loranev knelt, hand reaching towards the dead Marine. His voice was a whisper filled with grief. 'Rustyik…' He could barely recognize the young Arctic Wolf. 'I'm so, _so _sorry…'

Captain Riktovi pulled Loranev to his feet, turning him away. 'This was not your fault, Brother Loranev.' He nodded to Nordvik to take care of the remains. 'Do not blame yourself.'

Loranev shook his head. 'Captain, you do not understand. I told Rustyik to move ahead with a group of civilians. It was by my command that he moved alone…'

'Young as he may have been, he was still a Wolf of the Angel. You were right to make your decision. He is with the Emperor now.'

'I told him to go ahead, so that I could stay with Lenikov.' He made a point of glancing around him. 'Then I left Lenikov as well. I sent Rustyik to die in vain, for I did not accomplish even my task.'

Riktovi shrugged. 'If you insist on going down that path, Brother Loranev, then I will not stop you. But it is _not_ your fault Rustyik fell, and it is _not_ your fault Lenikov is missing. You did what you believed to be right, so live with it. Right now, we don't have time for you to wallow in self-hate. You're an Astartes for Terra's sake! You've lost hundreds of comrades and friends! Accept it, and move on, so we can make sure you don't lose another one.'

Riktovi pushed past Loranev and continued down the roadway. Loranev gazed into the shadows, understanding that Rustyik's killers had not left. He could still _feel_ them. Gritting his teeth, he sent a psychic blast into the darkness. Inhuman shrieks surrounded them. Loranev powered up his two chainswords and charged towards the daemonic voices. His scream of rage overcame their, echoing off the surrounding buildings. Lightning leapt from his fingertips and jumped from daemon to daemon, leaving charred husks in its wake.

Riktovi turned and ran towards the combatants. 'Loranev!'

Loranev hesitated as he sensed another, far fainter presence than that of the daemons. He spun, cutting down a shadow-creature before responding. 'Captain, Lenikov is _here_!'

***

_You loyalist dogs are all the same…_

Lenikov woke to a see a clear, blue sky above him. The voice faded from his mind as stood, glancing about him in confusion. He was alone, in the middle of an endless field. Waist-high grass tapped his body, swaying lightly in the wind. Birds sang. He tried to walk, but found he couldn't.

_You are all… weak._

He was no longer alone. Squinting, he struggled to make out the two figures in the distance. One, in blood-red armour, stood and walked around the other. The second figure, clad in battered armour the color of desert sand, knelt and let the blood drip from his face. Lenikov's heart nearly stopped. His voice caught in his throat.

'Firen?'

_There is only one thing that can make you strong. You know this, Kyr Lenikov._

The blood-red figure sent lightning dancing across the kneeling Marine's body. Faint screams crossed the field, echoing endlessly on the wind. Lenikov struggled to go to his brothers side, strained against his unnatural bonds to no avail. 'Darrier… no. Firen!'

_You call it, the Black Rage. Such a name can hardly do it justice._

The Marine's armour began to smoke. The sorcerer drove a psychic spike into his captive's brain, eliciting even more powerful screams of intense, unbearable agony. The cries chilled Lenikov to the bone. The Arctic Wolf roared with rage and grief. He called his brother's name, cursing the Kaos sorcerer. He begged the Emperor to help him. He was ignored.

'Firen! No, Emperor, please no… Firen!'

_If released, this strength, this "Rage" will help you to become one of the most powerful warriors the universe has ever seen. Even your corpse of a god knows this to be fact._

Gashes appeared in the Hunter's face, allowing more blood to flow. The Marine shuddered and went silent, his screams cut off. He was lifted into the air by an unseen force, arms spread wide, legs straight. His head rolled to one side. His armour rusted and broke apart.

'Darrier! No, no, no, _no_! Firen!'

_So weak…_

'Darrier!'

_Release it, Brother Lenikov._

The sorcerer raised an ancient bolt pistol to the Hunter's throat. Lenikov screamed, tears cascading down his face. 'No!'

_Release the Rage!_

'_Firen_!'

His cry followed the gunshot into eternity.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A wall exploded, showering Loranev with debris. A body flew through the air, crashing to the ground in the middle of the daemon swarm. Loranev knew instantly who it was. 'Lenikov!' He blasted daemons aside and rushed forward, Riktovi right behind him. Standing over his fallen sergeant, he lashed out with both swords, moving to fast for the creatures to track. Riktovi stood nearby, blazing away with his bolter rifle. A squad of Arctic Wolves joined them, adding the weight of their own fire to Riktovi's and Loranev's assault. When the last daemon fell, Loranev knelt beside his sergeant. 'Lenikov!'

The sergeant's eyes snapped open. His mouth opened in a cry of unimaginable pain, unendurable agony. His shout echoed off the buildings, pounding him into the ground: '_Firen_!' The tears came freely and he struggled to his feet. He pushed past his brother and roared, his pain and grief giving way to fury. '_I'll kill you! I'll kill you!_' The words rebounded off the walls. Lenikov's hands clutched his head as laughter echoed in his mind. He managed two more steps before falling to his knees. He screamed, his grief manifesting in a long, almost animalistic cry of pain and suffering, of loss and loneliness.

'Lenikov!' Loranev's eyes flared as he attempted to ease his sergeant's mind. He recoiled, horrified at what he saw there. It seemed as though Lenikov's soul was split in two with the force of his suffering. 'Holy Emperor…'

Lenikov shuddered, struggling in a battle against himself. His eyes faded from blue to red and back. With a final gasp of despair, he fell unconscious.

Riktovi shouted at Loranev, 'Get a breathing mask on him! Bokihitinov, check that building! Nordvik, are we good to go?'

Apothecary Nordvik nodded as he hefted Brother Rustyik's remains. Loranev winced slightly as he fixed the rebreather in place. Brother-Sergeant Yuka Bokihitinov froze, one foot on the crumbled wall Lenikov had been thrown through. 'Captain?'

Riktovi stepped forward, He shined his shoulder lamp into the building and muttered an oath. Five bodies were strung up on the walls, torn open and rapidly decaying. Blood covered the floor and walls, and dripped from the ceiling. The bodies themselves were in pieces: legs and arms torn off, necks bitten through, their organs ripped out through their chests. Their blood-covered armour clearly marked them as Archangels. A sixth Marine, also in the armour of the Archangels, lay on the floor, nearly covered by the vast amount of blood. Other than a large gash across his face, he look remarkably unharmed. Loranev hesitated before stepping into the room. He shuddered, clearly feeling the energies filling the room. He glanced back at Captain Riktovi. 'The same sorcerer that attacked Lenikov caused this.'

'Is he dead too?' Riktovi nodded to the sixth Marine.

Loranev knelt in the blood and placed his hands an inch away from either side of the Archangel's head. After a moment, the Marine started to breathe, albeit slowly and painfully. Loranev continued his ministrations. 'His willpower is amazing, captain. It is the only reason he survived as he did. He was able to combat the Kaos sorcerer and he's not even a psyker.'

'We'll talk about it later. For now, get a breathing unit for him and let's head back to the Thunderhawks.'

The moment Loranev's fingers made contact with Ekthalon's face, the Archangel's eyes flickered open. He let out a long, pained gasp. After a moment of fumbling on the blood-covered floor, he picked up his helmet and locked it into place. Sitting on his knees, he paused to catch his breath. Using Loranev to steady himself, he slowly got to his feet. He gazed at the Archangels around him. He spoke, his voice stone. 'Did Lenikov survive?' Loranev nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Ekthalon waved him off.' Good. Take him and go. This world is lost, and has been for some time.' With that, he stepped past the Arctic Wolves and limped towards Lenikov. He hesitated for a second beside the unconscious Marine. 'I'm sorry.' He left, his armour blending with the shadows.

Riktovi shook his head. 'Let's go.'

The Arctic Wolves formed a file and marched back to the landing pad, carrying Lenikov and the body of Rustyik. They advanced slowly, listening to the sounds around them. Claws scraped off rock, daemonic whispers carried through the air. They felt thousands of eyes boring into them. The number of bodies around them grew the farther they went. Every fallen Marine they found was picked up by an Arctic Wolf and carried with them. The dead civilians and Guardsmen were left where they were.

The Marines' boots echoed of the rock floors. Their lights cut through the darkness, beacons in the night. Faint laughter bounced off the walls, bringing the Wolves to a halt. High-pitched voices carried on the dusty air. Riktovi glanced around him in confusion as music played in the far distance. Loranev closed his eyes in concentration. Yuka Bokihitinov trained his rifle on the shadows around him, his squad following suit. Nordvik crouched over Lenikov and pulled out his pistol, scanning the area warily. Loranev's eyes snapped open and his voice rang with terrifying authority. '_Run!_'

The Arctic Wolves leapt into motion. Daemons charged out of the darkness and powered into the Marines, claws flashing. Sergeant Bokihitinov was the first to die, his helmet cleaved in two. The Marines opened fire, but it wasn't enough. Their bolts ricocheted off the daemon's armour, sending sparks in every direction. Their swords skipped off the creatures. Riktovi tossed his weapons to the ground and punched a shadow-daemon full in the face. It flew back, neck nearly broken. A long screech emanated from its maw as it leapt again. This time, the Arctic Wolf captain caught it and brought it crashing to the ground. Pinning it there with one boot, he smashed its skull with the other. He screamed as claws tore through his back, sending him to his knees.

Loranev leapt over the captain, tackling the daemon behind him. His eyes flared and his hands glowed. Power built within the daemon. He threw it into the darkness, and in the darkness it exploded. He spun as a blast of power tore into the Wolves. Nordvik fired at a single Kaos Marine. The heretic advanced, alone, and waved a hand in Nordvik's vague direction. The Apothecary smashed into a wall and hung there. He roared in pain as blood began to pour from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. His chest flattened and his head twisted around one hundred eighty degrees. The body fell to the ground as the sorcerer released it.

Loranev ran forward, activating his chainswords. He collected the air in front of him into a solid wall and sent it at the Word Bearer. The sorcerer laughed and the wall shattered around him like water on rock. He pointed at the charging Arctic Wolf and his voice echoed in Loranev's mind.

_So you are the one who cleared the good Lenikov's mind? Well done! Very well done! _He grinned, showing row after row of razor-sharp, pointed teeth. He sent another Marine flying with a flick of the wrist, and smashed yet another flat with a turn of his gaze. Then Loranev was upon him.

The Arctic Wolf brought his chainswords down in a whistling arc. The sorcerer deflected them with the back of his hand and smashed Loranev in the chest with his palm. Loranev felt the blow flow through him and he was thrown back fifty meters, ribcage crushed, his armour shattered. Landing with a sickening crunch, Loranev struggled to breathe the deadly air of Preaore as his primary heart failed. He shook his head weakly and sent a return blast at the Word Bearer. The sorcerer turned the power upon itself, causing an explosion barely a half meter from the prone Arctic Wolf. The heretic smiled as he watched Loranev die. The Arctic Wolf's skin and muscle was stripped from the bone and the skeleton was crushed.

Riktovi screamed, his eyes fixated on all that remained of Loranev. The sorcerer's amused voice filled the heads of the remaining Arctic Wolves. _I am Armadon, child of the gods. The corps you call a god will not save you. Kaos will feast on your souls._

The daemon attacked with renewed fury. The Arctic Wolves fought back to back, their rifles ablaze. Riktovi, power sword in hand, fought his way towards the traitor who called himself Armadon. The heretic gazed at Riktovi with undisguised hatred, then smiled. His words were for the captain alone. _Your braver and loyalty are to be admired. That is all that is admirable about you and your kin, however. You are servants, nay, slaves to a god that has not seen fit to rise from his throne in ten thousand years. You shackle yourselves to the people around you with notions of honour and glory. You have never quite realized, that trued glory comes from true freedom. The freedom to forge your own path, build your own army… _He smiled again. _…to choose your own victims._

Riktovi roared in pain as his secondary heart was ripped through his chest and armour. He dropped to the ground as his arm was torn off and his sword driven through his chest. Energy danced across him, scorching his armour and blackening the skin beneath. The torture ceased as an Arctic Wolf slammed into Armadon. The Marine roared with animalistic fury and pain. His combat knife rebounded off the sorcerer's arm and his fist smashed into the heretic's face. Then he froze, held back by the will of Armadon. His arms were spread wide as he was lifted into the air. His mind filled with pain.

_You showed such promise, Kyr Lenikov. So many years ago, when you were ready to leave your fellow Imperials to die. I tried to help you, tried to give you a better, glorious past, and a better, glorious future. You ignored your true calling and fought to redeem yourself for something you should have been proud of. It would have been much better for you to accept the life I laid out for you. You are blind. You have lived as a slave to the corpse-god, and so you will die as a slave to the corpse-god._

Lenikov's armour was ripped from him, the pieces tossed into the shadows. He gasped as the air flowed into his lungs and tore at them. Gashes opened in his back and the blood flowed forth. Energy coiled into a thin whip and lashed at his face, wrapping around his throat. The skin began to smoke and blacken, peeling away. Pressure built in his mind, causing blood to flow from his ears, eyes, and nose. He shuddered as energy speared through him, carving through his skin with laughable ease. Armadon's amused voice filled him.

_You should have realized, Brother Lenikov, that Loranev was the only reason you ever survived. Your fates were linked together from birth. His life, was your life. His pain, was your pain. His death, shall be your death.'_

Lenikov was thrown to the ground, shattering both legs. Pain spiked through him and he screamed, more in anger and frustration than anything else. His bionic arm exploded, showering him with sparks and metal fragments. He coughed and blood splattered the ground in front of him. His vision swam, darkening and brightening repeatedly. A burst of power exploded in front of him, smashing him against the road, sending him into convulsions.

Armadon turned his gaze on the one who had distracted him, causing the spell to weaken. His eyes narrowed in fury as a Marine limped from the darkness, slaughtering the daemons around him. His armour was of the deepest, purest black, blending with the shadows and nearly rendering the Marine invisible. He fired his last round at the sorcerer before dropping his rifle. The shot illuminated his face for the briefest of seconds. It was covered in blood, as was the entire front side of his armour.

Ekthalon's mind still reeled from his earlier encounters with the sorcerer, once in the room with Lenikov, and once afterwards, when he'd gone hunting. He did a mental calculation. It'd been at least forty minutes since Armadon had torn his helm from him, so that meant he had at most another twenty minutes to live. Every breath tore at him, causing him immense pain. He charged at the Kaos Marine. Armadon watched a moment, then began his attack, speaking to the Marine at the same time.

_This will be the third time I've killed you, Marine._

Ekthalon roared, 'I'm still waiting for the first time!' He dived to the side, a ripple of power shot through the air where he'd been. Rolling with his fall, he came up running, wincing slightly as pain lanced up his injured leg. Pulling out two combat knives, he closed with the sorcerer. His blades bounced off Armadon's forearms, showering both Marines with sparks. Ekthalon blinked away the spots and tried again, aiming at the traitor's midsection. Again, Armadon blocked the knives with contemptuous ease. Then the sorcerer frowned. He glanced down at his arm and saw a line of blood leaking through the armour. His eyes narrowed in rage.

Now, Armadon went on the offensive. Blasts of power and energy scythed from him, only to strike empty air. He spun, barely keeping the Archangel in sight. With growing anger and frustration, he expanded his attacks. A wave of flame flew from his outstretched hands, smashing into Ekthalon's chest. The Marine staggered back and nearly fell. He grimaced in pain as the flames attempted to eat through his armour. In desperation, he threw one of his knives. The blade imbedded itself in a weak spot in Armadon's armour, between the shoulder guard and chestplate. The sorcerer roared.

Pain scythed through Ekthalon and immense pressure built within his mind. He screamed as a psychic spike was driven through him. Held back by immense power, he nearly blacked out as his knife was ripped from his hands and plunged into his chest. Armadon turned, content that the Archangel was secured for the moment. He smiled, knowing exactly how long the Marine had left before the toxic air killed him. He praised his gods for allowing him to breathe it. His eyes came to rest on the fallen form of Lenikov. His grin spread wider as he began a new spell to crush the life out of the Arctic Wolf in the same manner of the deceased Loranev.

A gasp escaped Ekthalon. 'No…'

_Be silent._

His throat constricted for a moment. Armadon turned in surprised fury as his hold over Ekthalon failed, the connection severed by the sheer force of the Archangel's willpower. Moving faster than he ever had before, pushing himself past his natural limits by his will alone, Ekthalon powered into the sorcerer. His cry echoed in the city and Armadon's mind. _'You will _not_ harm him again!'_

Ekthalon's blade passed into the sorcerer's throat, his hands ripped across the heretic's face. Still moving with amazing speed, he tore his second knife out of his enemy's shoulder and slammed it home in the sorcerer's eye. Armadon's death scream manifested in a brilliant explosion, sending the surrounding daemons and Arctic Wolves flying fifty meters in the air, and vaporizing Brother-Sergeant Ekthalon of the Archangels Third Company.

***

Sergeant Kyr Lenikov of the Arctic Wolves Third Company woke slowly and painfully. Unable to move for the moment, he took in what little of his surroundings he could see. Shadows danced above him from a nearby fire. Hard rock pressed into his back. He breathed through a filter. He struggled to clear his mind. Why did he need a rebreather? He decided to figure it out later as an overwhelming sense of loss filled him. Frowning in pained confusion, he struggled onto his knees. He glanced around him. Fallen Arctic Wolves and daemons littered the road. The creatures of the warp were burned by a Wolf with a flamer, while the dead Marines were laid out in rows. A single, large crater dominated the battlefield.

Everything came back to him. Every moment of his life, every memory erased by a powerful Kaos sorcerer named Armadon rushed into his mind. Four hundred forty-two year ago, he was brought into the Wolves. Forty years later, he was taught about a new kind of mercy. Every battle he'd every fought, every friend he'd ever made and lost in battle, they all returned to him as the final traces of Armadon's influence swept away. Lenikov remembered meeting a Marine named Darrier Firen during the hellish war for Arein. He remembered the glorious, special bond they had forged. He remembered watching Firen die.

Lenikov moaned, the sound long and drawn out, pure anguish and loneliness. His suffering overwhelmed him and he lowered his head to his single hand. The tears came freely. He was alone in his pain, alone in his suffering. He did not feel the golden warmth of the Emperor, did not see the crimson beacon of the Angel, Sanguinius. He did not feel the hands that guided him to his feet, nor the pain of trying to walk on shattered legs. He collapsed as his legs gave out. The Marine beside him swore and pulled Lenikov over his shoulders. Struggling under the sergeant's weight, he jogged back to the landing pad. A dozen or so Arctic Wolves stood at the perimeter, bolters trained on the surrounding city. The Hunters were long gone.

A veteran sergeant stepped onto the rockcrete as the last wounded Marine was placed in a Thunderhawk. He glanced over at his captain's unconscious form, glorified to see him still breathing despite his grievous wounds. He ordered his fellow Wolves back onto the gunships. It was time to go back to Angura, their home.

***

The Marine watched the Thunderhawks lifting into the sky. He smiled under his helmet. Glancing around him at the countless Eldar bodies, he shook his head sadly. These were the Eldar whose mission it had been to destroy the water reservoir doors. Now he was about to finish what they'd started. Holding the small detonator in his hand, he gazed at a fallen Guardsman. The colonel had been the cause of everything, of all the horrors on Arein and Preaore. He had betrayed the Emperor, and everything the Imperium stood for. It had been this Marine's job to find, and kill him. The last of the Archangels on this desert world, Brother Sylkev smiled sadly and hit the detonator. The ground shook and the air rippled with the force of the explosion. Thousands of tons of water poured into the city, washing away the hell that remained.

* * *

Message from the Author

Thank you for reading this story, it was my first. Thanks to those

that reviewed the story, in particular to Blip-Chan for reviewing every chapter :D

(Go review her stories!)

-For more on the Archangels, go read Nero Vipus's stories. (They are his Chapter after all)

-For more on the Arctic Wolves, wait for Book 2: Wolves of the Angel: Fallen Brothers

Again, thank you for taking the time to read this.


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